Fen' Harel
by My imaginary friends
Summary: Hawke and his companions investigate a new Templar weapon but it isn't quite what they expected. Fenris X OC A/N: I don't own Dragon age
1. You can't kill boxes

You can't kill boxes.

"Is this the one, Anders?"

Hawke slants his head slightly towards the mage but it's difficult to see anything in this light. Anders nods gravelly, his silhouette outlined as moonlight streams in from the docks behind them. The abandoned warehouse groans in protest, the old wood creaks and the rusty machinery rattles impatiently.

"This is definitely the one; my sources wouldn't mess up something as vital as this."

Hawke nods but doesn't make an effort to move. The group stands awkwardly in front of a large crate placed in the centre of the room. The bodies of the few guards are littered around the doorways but now they've fought for their prize, they seem hesitant to claim it.

Anders approached Hawke a week ago with information of a new templar weapon that had been shipped to Kirkwall to deal with the restless mages and hidden apostates. Hawke being one of those apostates and a sympathizer of Ander's cause had agreed to help him track the crate down. And now here it stood, waiting patiently for them to open it. Hawke's fingers itched, he reached forward.

"Wait," Anders gripped his arm, "if this is a Templar weapon then is it wise for a mage to open it."  
>"Good point," Hawke quickly dropped his hand and turned to his companions. He smiled at Varric sweetly.<p>

"I'm not opening it," Varric eyed the box venomously; "I'm not a huge fan of nasty surprises."

"Me too," Isabella said, "maybe we should kill it first."

"You can't kill a box can you?" Merrill asked.

"No, and if we try that we may damage whatever's inside," Anders mused.

"Fine," Fenris rolled his eyes and stepped forward.

He paused, hands lingering on the catch. There was a sense of trepidation deep in his gut that he didn't trust in the slightest but he was curious. Curiosity killed the cat. He drew a deep breath before yanking the side of the wood open. Immediately a girl tumbled out. Well he hadn't expected that.

"It's a girl!" Ander's exclaimed. He rushes forwards and kneels down by the crumpled body. She was unconscious, legs curled underneath her and her arm slung lazily over her face hiding her face form view.

"Your observation skills are impressive," Fenris retorts drily.

Hawke's brow furrows with confusion while Isabella steps forward to curiously observe the girl also. She leans close as if she were about to kiss the sleeping form goodnight, then inhales slightly.

"She smells like the sleeping powder used when trading animals. You drug them to stop them moving around in the crates and damaging the merchandise."

"This doesn't make sense," Hawke frowns.

"Maybe the weapon thingy is still in the crate," Isabella suggested, "and they just like using people as packaging."

"Traders are funny like that," Varric said.

Hawke ran his hands all over the wood, inside and out, his face creased in concentration.

"No there's nothing there."

"What do we do now?" Merrill asked, looking at Hawke expectantly.

They stared at the body, a narrow shaft of silver moonlight cut through the scene.

"We need to get it out of here, so we can see properly what we're dealing with," Hawke said, stroking his beard in completion.

"She can't come to the clinic, there'd be no room if the refugees needed aid," Anders said, "and refugees always need aid."  
>"The barracks are out of the question, I mean Aveline has already warned me about taking her with me," Hawke began.<p>

"And she'd blow her little carrot top if we brought this," Isabella smirked, "I say we take her to the barracks just for fun."  
>Hawke raised an eyebrow but his eyes were soft. Isabella shrugged in response.<p>

"We can't take her to my house," Hawke said, "Gamlen is… inappropriate."

They all nodded solemnly.

"Or the Hanged man. She'd fit right in there, unconscious girls are dragged through that door all the time but it's a bit too noisy for an integration. The reply to every question would be "what? Pardon?"" Varric frowned.

"If we dragged her through Hightown we'd probably alert the guard," Fenris mused.

"I vote Hightown," Isabella cried.

"Then you'd have to talk to Aveline," Hawke added.

"I don't vote Hightown," Isabella cried.

"That leaves the Alienage," Carver said, his back turned to them as he inspected the body.

"Oh," said Merrill, "I live there."

"We know Daisy," said Varric patiently.

"That's our best option actually," Hawke stroked his beard.

"What, two elves, five humans and a dwarf," Merrill pointed at the sleeping girl, "won't that seem suspicious?"

"Yes but the elves aren't going to want to draw attention to themselves," Hawke said, "They'll want to keep out of trouble."

"Actually," Carver said bent over the body, "make that one dwarf, four humans and two and a half elves."

They turned confused.


	2. But you can kill chairs

But you can kill chairs. 

My mouth was dry.

It felt as though I had been eating sand and the thousands of grains were still gritted in my teeth. My body was sore too, the ache deep in my bones and skin. I wanted to groan. But I stopped myself.

I wasn't in the crate anymore.

My brain processed this slowly, groggy from the drugged food and confusion. I should be in the crate, why aren't I in the crate? Someone must have found the crate. That was the only explanation. In that case they probably still thought I was unconscious. It was vital that I kept that impression. I needed the element of surprise as I was unsure as to what exactly I was about throw myself at. Hyperaware now with the promise of violence pressed onto me, my bruised body soaked up the surroundings.

A chair. I was tied to a chair. I could feel the hard wood on my back, butt, legs and arms. The frayed rope was biting uncomfortably into my wrists. They hadn't tied my feet. Thank the Maker. The rope felt thin and weak, it was prickly which suggested that it was of a low quality. So my captor's weren't wealthy enough to afford decent rope. My heart stopped. What if they were Apostates? The urge to snap my eyes open was massive; I barely managed to fight it before the panic seeped into my skin. Just cut the ropes, I chanted in my head like a prayer, cut the ropes.

They hadn't removed my gauntlet's either. They obviously underestimated me. Then maybe they weren't Apostates seeking revenge. That small amount of hope in my chest managed to silence the roar of panic slightly. There was a wickedly sharp edge carved into the metal of the gauntlets. With tiny, careful movements I managed to slice the rope and ensure that it did not drop.

I waited and listened.

There were voices. They sounded quite distant, another room perhaps? Had they left me unguarded? I strained harder. No. There was breathing and warmth on my face, the same heavy heat from a fire. The breathing was deep, a man, and it whispered from the general direction of the heat, the fireplace. He was my only obstacle here. I needed to deal with him before moving onto the others.

With measured movements I managed to push my lower right arm against the wood slightly. I heard a slight rip as the blade stitched into the fabric cut through. I continued to push, until the blade was free and near my fingertips. My fingers curled softly around the metal. It felt right there, familiar. I breathed in deeply, and then blew it out, once, twice, embracing the thick knots curled deep in my stomach as a sign that I was ready.

Launching myself from the chair like a spring trap, I kicked myself forward, hearing the wood snap under the sudden violent movement. I hurled myself towards the captor, knocking him to the ground. The knife was up, ready and willing; I curled it viciously under the bare throat. Then froze.

Two narrowed eyes were watching me, a dark endless green that would have seemed soft if they weren't so sharp. He was an elf; his nose sharing the same rigid pride but his lips were soft, full and gently rounded. His face was long with shallow cheeks that gave him an almost wolf like quality. But it wasn't his handsome face that made me pause; a pretty face can kill you as easily as an ugly one. It was the markings on his pointed chin. They curled slightly, just touching the skin of his bottom lip (not that I was staring his lips). They were Lyrium. Lyrium markings etched in his skin. My back began to burn at the close proximity of them. My heart paused as the world drew its breath. It seemed to last forever, as if this moment had always been and would always be. I felt as though the dust would settle on my shoulders and had the urge to shake my head but couldn't. I was trapped now, trapped here forever with the sound of my heartbeat flooding my ears.

A kick to the ribs ripped me from it. It shook the pause and broke it like shattered glass. The elf began to cough and splutter.

"Are you okay Fenris?"

The voice was high and sounded Dalish. Two elves, I could manage with that. I pulled myself to my feet, stomach throbbing from the kick, and regained a fighting stance, wielding the blade loosely in my right hand. There was a click. I stopped, confused. My vision had been cut in two, as I stared right at an arrow. Right between the eyes, my eyes. Andraste I really liked my brain, I seriously didn't think an arrow would look very good in it.

"That wasn't very polite of you," a voice spoke, "you broke a chair."

A deep and gravelly yet thick and smooth like honey. The kind of voice that was able to make you agree to anything.

"I'm sorry," I managed trying to keep my legs from collapsing under me, "very."

The arrow didn't move. It stared sharply right back at me.

"I really liked that chair," it was the Dalish girl again. Maker, I was such an idiot; I'd definitely heard more than one voice in the other room, why hadn't I fled? I could have killed the elf then ran, why hadn't I? _I _felt like shooting myself with an arrow never mind the man in front of me.

"My deepest regrets," I managed attempting to bow slightly so I could check the whereabouts of my weapon.

"That was a very posh apology," another voice. Female, rich but light hearted a very, attractive voice like the owner of the arrow.

"I aim to please," I managed smiling slightly despite the sweat clamming up my palms and the horrible sensation that someone had removed my stomach. They weren't very rich; maybe they could be charmed with fine words. I wasn't confident in my abilities. I wasn't my mother. But right now, I'd kiss a cat's bum hole if it moved that arrow.

"Oh, I like her," came the voice again, "can we keep her?"

"She's not a dog Isabella," I could hear his smile as he spoke. This voice was new, it sounded strong and confident but there was gentleness to it. I'd been listening carefully and so far that I'd counted five people. The high pitched Dalish girl, the honey tones of the crossbow wielder, the man speaking just, the woman named Isabella and the man with the green eyes. And the markings. The markings that were going to get me killed.


	3. Merril's rotten

Merrill's rotten.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked.

"No, not unless we have to," I almost flinched, it was the man again but there was iron in his voice.

"You have to promise to be a good girl," the crossbow wielder spoke. It was nostalgic, my grandmother had always made me promise to be good girl, and I had to bite back my usual lop sided grin and reply of "I'm always a good girl". The memory left me feeling slightly deflated, it hurt and I didn't need that right now.

"I promise," I said.

The arrow lowered and I let out a sigh of relief but managed to resist dancing around. With the absence of the arrow I found myself staring at a dwarf. He had the usual strong, square features that belonged to dwarfs and there was a barely concealed twinkle in his golden eyes. . He wore a permanent smirk like he was in on some huge joke I wasn't aware of.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Varric Tethras," he replied slipping the most beautiful crossbow I have ever seen over a broad shoulder and leaning his stout body against an oak table.

"You're a dwarf?" I was confused. Why would he be working with elves and humans, and why an interest in me?

"Last time I checked," Varric said then he smirked, "you're so very observant."

"I scare myself too sometimes," I muttered.

This seemed to be the right reply. Varric smiled. So how many were there in the room? My head quickly scanned the room. Two elves, one dwarf, three humans. Four male, two female. Three mages.

I hissed. My own ears registering how feral and odd it sounded. I would have been embarrassed in any other situation but right now my brain was screaming at me. My heart sped up and my body tensed rigid with training. My fingers bled where the blade was protesting vainly against my tight grip.

"Whoa," everyone in the room backed up a step, drawing weapons. I didn't have a chance; all seven of them were blocking my escape. I _knew _this yet I couldn't unravel myself. It was too late, instinct had already kicked in.

"Hey, hey," Varric spoke talking to me like I was a spooked horse and gestured slowly for me to calm down; "I thought we had a deal princess."

"That was until I realized there were three apostates in the room," I replied not taking my eyes from the mages. I didn't take in details just zeroed in on the steady thrum of magic emitting from them.

"We should have expected this," it was one of the mages, he voice was clear but sounded tired.

"You think you can make it out of the room with just that little knife, Princess?" it was Varric, his voice so calm and steady that I was tempted to comply. He was right; maybe I should just…No! The image of the village, Blackwater, swam into my head. No, this magic smelt rotten. Someone here was a blood mage. The Dalish girl.

"Don't worry about me. I'm very good at killing mages," I smiled, staring directly at her, letting her know I knew. She shrank back slightly. I didn't enjoy seeing it.

"That's a coincidence, I'm very good at killing Templars" that tired voice from before but he sounded different, he sounded strained and furious like he was trying to fight something.

"I'm not a Templar," I retorted.

"Are you aware that she is rotten?" I turned back to the girl.

"Rotten? Daisy has a sell by date?" it was Varric who seemed didn't seem bothered by the situation at all.

I tried not to laugh, "She's a blood mage."

No one replied. I faltered, shocked.

"You all know?"

How could they stand to be near her?

"I know what I'm doing," she argued forcefully. I felt anger boil in my stomach. The stupid, _stupid_ cow.

"Bullshit," I snapped.

"Okay this is getting out of hand," it was one of the mages, the one with the strong voice, "can you put down your weapon please?"

I eyed them nervously, licked my lips and to my astonishment found myself dropping my hand to my side. They visibly relaxed.

"My name is Hawke," the mage said friendly, "and we were going to question you until we found you on top of Fenris."

My face flushed. Why did I blush?

"Sit down, tell us your name," the command sounded more like a question and he gestured slightly to a remaining chair. I made towards it but remembered the hardness I'd heard earlier and stopped myself.

"Look, I swear on my life we won't harm you," he sighed. We locked eyes. Hawke was an appropriate name. I had thought Varric's eyes were golden but they seemed just a rich yellow now. Hawke's shone fiercely at me, burning gold, that's what they looked like. Could I trust him? He didn't break eye contact, just bared himself to me. I made up my mind.

"My name's Fen' Harel," I said tucking myself onto a seat.

There was a gasp. Oh Maker.

"What did you say?" the blood mage stormed at me striding towards the chair.

"Fen' Harel," I repeated. She almost pulled me off the chair, I had clutch at the arms.

"Easy Merrill," Hawke said, detaching her from me, "What's wrong with you?"

"Fen' Harel is the Dalish name for the Dread Wolf," it was the man elf's voice, it sounded deep and raw.

"The Dread Wolf," Isabella mused, "isn't that the guy who betrayed all the other elfish gods?"

"Yes," Fenris replied. He studied me I could feel, his eyes like knives on my face, cutting me up. So I looked back. I noticed he had silver white hair; it was chopped messily and hung loosely across one eye. I caught his eyes and he glared back. My stomach rolled.

"How did you earn that?" Hawke asked. I turned to face him. I noticed that he was handsome too, a rough, attractive face. The high cheekbones and sturdy nose hinted at nobility but his hair was jagged. He looked like a rebel prince. He was powerful too. The magic was practically humming around him.

"They gave it to me," I replied, looking confused. Wouldn't that seem obvious?

"Who's they," it was the mage from earlier, the one who ate Templar's for breakfast. The image of tiny screaming Templars being lifted on a spoon into his mouth fazed me slightly.

"Pardon?"

"Who's they?" he repeated.

"Oh, the Templars of course," I frowned, "it's not gonna be my gran is it?"

Then it dawned me. They had no idea who I was.

"Why did you haul me out of the crate?" I asked Hawke.

"We heard that there was a Templar weapon in there and decided that they were better of without it," the other mage answered. There was something strange about that one, something not quite right. I tried to remember where I'd had this prickly feeling before. It felt as if there were a tiny hedgehog curled in my side.

"I'm glad we dragged her here," Isabella mused, "it's much more interesting than killing bandits."

"And are you? Are you a Templar weapon?" Hawke asked staring at me intensely.

"Yeah," I replied, "but I'm not a Templar, they brought me."

Fenris stiffened.

"I don't understand," Merrill said pacing, "why not just use another Templar, why buy a slave and why give her **that name?"**

"You seriously have no idea do you?" I asked.

They remained silent. I sighed. How many times have I had to exhibit myself to the Templars? But it wasn't the constant repletion that bothered me.

"Merrill," I said, her name sounded strange in my mouth, "can you remember how the Dread Wolf trapped the old gods."

"Yes of course, they trusted him and he used their fear of one another to trick them," she snorted.

"Yes but why did they trust him?" I asked.

"He could walk through both their camps, he didn't belong to a side," she eyed me suspiciously.

"Exactly," I smiled, I liked the Dalish fables, and I knew nearly all of them. Well my mother had been born in a Dalish clan and my grandparents had spent nearly all their lives in one. Until there were hardly any of them left in the clan and the ones that had stayed were all starving as it had grew difficult to find food, so they'd traveled defeated to the Alienage.

"Is this of any relevance?" the other mage asked.

I lifted myself from the chair and stood before them. The feeling of all the eyes on me made me nervous and unbearably self conscious but this was the quickest way. I removed my jacket.

"Way more interesting than bandits," Isabella smirked. Then I turned so they could see my back. There was silence.

I closed my eyes. I hated people seeing it. It confirmed what I knew myself. I wasn't human. Across the canvas of skin on my back, an emblem had been carved. Once the wounds were fresh, raw black Lyrium had been poured meticulously into the groves until it mingled and spread, burning my mind, body and soul like wildfire. I'd vomited, screamed, pleaded and even attempted to bludgeon myself to death before the cool arms of darkness had finally embraced me. What I'd found that morning, was a mockery of myself, empty, hollow and marked. A flaming sword cut into my back, stained black from the Lyrium. I held my breath, hoping the group couldn't see the shame and pain on my face. Because some part of me had expected it, as if that was what I was meant to look like and the me beforehand was the damaged version. The knife twisted in deeper.

"What the hell is that?" Varric didn't sound so cool anymore.

"Avery painful tattoo," I joked, hoping to mask my emotions from them and myself.

"I'll bet," Isabella breathed but she sounded concerned.

"Is that the Templar emblem?" Merrill asked quietly. I nodded.

"And is that black Lyrium?" the other mage asked he stepped forward.

"Yes," I replied hastily grabbing my jacket from the chair and pulling it on.

"I don't understand," Hawke said, "what's black Lyrium, Anders?"

I didn't face them until I'd got my breathing under control.

"Black Lyrium has different properties to normal Lyrium, its poison to mages if it manages to get in your blood stream in large quanties; however it boosts our power immensely and allows a mage to perform shadow magic for a short period of time," the other mage answered Hawke, so his name was Anders.

"It's also extremely rare and expensive," Varric mused, "I heard Bartrand mention it once, he said that even a tiny amount could set him up for life. So how did the Templars get enough to nearly cover your back?"

"There's only one of me," I said, "and after the bill I guess there's only going to be one. They needed a better weapon, something the mages wouldn't detect or mistrust. They needed something that could perform mild magic without entering and being tempted in the Fade, something that could walk in both camps without belonging to a side."

"This doesn't make sense," Hawke said, "from what I've experienced only the Trevinter Imperium has managed a process such as this and Knight Commander Meredith would never co-operate with mages." He stroked his beard and glanced at Fenris when he mentioned the Imperium. The markings. I remembered his markings and glanced across at him. He was staring at me as if he'd seen a ghost. His dark green eyes were wide open.

When he noticed me looking back at him, he seemed to regain himself slightly and his face became impassive again. Was he from the Trevinter? I'd never seen an elf magister only slaves. Did that mean that someone here was a magister? I coiled, seething. I couldn't give a toss if I was outnumbered I was going to stab whoever it was in the eye. I'd bet on Anders, but there was no way to be sure. I needed to make sure I got whoever it was.

"How did you get those markings?" Anders asked frowning slightly.

"Well, first they drag you into a room and tie you to a stone table, chaining your arms and legs down so you don't struggle too much. Then they gag you so you can't bite your tongue off and so they won't get distracted by your screams as they carve the ironically named Sword of Mercy into your back with various sharp objects. They make sure your awake for the next bit because they don't want you to die from shock. Then a group of Templars rolls a basin filled with raw Lyrium that has been melted down and liquefied into the room, which as I'm sure you can imagine makes it very, very hot. Then while a group of mages and a magister chant and cast, they pour the liquid into your open wounds. They remove the gag so you don't choke on your own vomit and one had to hold your head down so you don't try to club yourself to death on the stone table while the Lyrium burns and rips up the piece of meat that has become your body," I smile sweetly at him in a sinister fashion.

I saw Fenris flinch.

"I don't think he wanted that much detail," Isabella says, her voice sounds slightly shocked.

"Well he did ask," I smile.

There's another silence.

"So there was a magister present?" Ander's asks gently. I'm not a child; I don't need him to speak to me like that. I don't want their sympathy and definitely not their pity. I told them that so they'd leave or make _me_ leave.

"Yes, there was, I think I puked on him," I smiled.

"This seriously doesn't sound like Meredith," Hawke stroked his beard again. I think it's a habit of his when he's thinking. My eyes perked up.

"Knight Commander Meredith?" I asked.

"Yes, why?" Anders studied me. He looked different to Hawke, Hawke looked like a king. Anders looked more like a pilgrim. He was exhausted. Where Hawke's features were strong and proud, Anders was soft and innocent. His eyes were a light warm, brown and his fair chestnut hair was pulled back into a pony tail. I hate men with ponytails.

"They shipped me over here, to present me to the Knight Commander. I am a gift help stop the latent amount of blood mages," I said with indifference.

"So you were… created without Meredith's consent," Ander's asked. I was unsure if created was the correct word.

"Yes," I sighed, "but haven't you lot got to be somewhere, unless you want me to puke on her too?" I asked I must have been here for hours and my butt hurt. That reminded me, where was my weapon?

"Like I've said this is way more interesting than bandits," Isabella said, a smile playing on her lips. She was very beautiful. Her skin beautifully coloured, with brunette hair that curled dark and thick down her back. Her eyes and lips were full and playful. She was dressed like a pirate queen. A pirate. I'd never met a pirate, they seemed interesting. I hadn't been on a boat before, well while conscious; I wondered what it felt like. I bet it was like flying.

"Thank you," I said with a slight bow.

"Especially the trick where you started taking your clothes off, I liked that one," she purred. I froze.

"Erm, pleased to help? I suppose," I straightened up smiling confusedly.

"You are precious," she laughed, "Where'd you learn such fine manners?"

I froze again. Don't think about it. Don't think about him.

"Nowhere," I replied coldly, "so what do you intend do with me now?"

Hawke stroked his beard.

"Won't the Templars be looking for you?" he asked.

I shrugged, "I'm illegal so they won't draw attention by searching every house. However I was an expensive investment so they won't just leave me."

"Don't talk about yourself like that."

My head snapped round. Had Fenris spoke?

"You're not an object," his voice rumbled, "don't talk about yourself like you are one."

I felt stupid suddenly. But wasn't his master in this very room, surely he should know.

"But I am," I replied confused, "how do they allow to speak like that?"

"No one can stop me speaking like this," he looked as confused as me.

"What about your master?" I asked, "Isn't he in this room?"

His eyes instantly narrowed and he glared at me mercilessly. Oh crap.

"My _master_ is not in this room," he stated, voice dripping with dry hate. My stomach rolled over. But I was not about to be bullied by him, markings or no markings. He intimidated me much more than the others for some reason but I wasn't going to curl up and die like some weak hearted maiden. I glared back. I wanted him to know that.

Hawke cleared his throat, "Fenris is an escaped slave," he said, "but that's irrelevant, I'd still like to talk to you Fen' Harel."

I snapped my head back to Hawke.

"So none of you are Trevinter magisters?" I asked.

"No," Hawke stated simply.

"Good," I smiled, "I was going to stab Anders in the eye but now there's no need."

"That's always good to know eh, Blondie?" Varric clasped him on the back.

"Yeah," he laughed nervously. Was he scared of me?

"Hawke," I said after thinking for a moment.

"Yes?"

"I have been thinking," I said.

"Yes?"

"And I have had an idea."

"That generally happens when you think, princess," said Varric. He kept calling me that.

"The Templars are looking for me, yes. But you have an escaped slave right here, and that got me thinking. I don't really want to go with the Templars. They're very serious and preachy, it's quite irritating. And Hawke I am quite fond of you, you haven't zapped me yet and haven't even mentioned Andraste once. You have a varied bunch of companions, so I'm speculating that you must do something of interest. So Hawke…" I took a deep breath then rushed, "I wish to travel with you."

Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"If the Templars show up, you can say you brought me from a slaver near the docks. As a force of order and me being illegal by rights, the Templars can't liberate me without Meredith noticing," I said, keeping eye contact, "And I'm useful Hawke. You said you didn't want the Templars having their new weapon well you can ensure that doesn't happen, if I'm travelling with you."

Hawke stroked his beard.

"Did I mention I'm very good at killing mages," I grinned, "mage on mage fights take awhile don't they?"

"I need all the help I can get," Hawke smiled pulling me to my feet and shaking my hand.

"Thank you," I smiled brightly at him.

"What?" Anders and Merrill exclaimed.

"I swear I won't kill you unless Hawke asks me to," I said sincerely. Fenris smiled slightly but it was gone when I blinked. Surely I'm seeing things.

"I'm so comforted Fen' Harel," Anders mumbled.


	4. Gamlen's house stinks

Gamlen's house stinks.

The smell of damp hit me. It was thick and cloying and generally very unpleasant in my nose. After Hawke had discovered that I had nowhere to stay he offered to put me up. He claimed that it was to keep up the appearance that I was his bodyguard but I suspected that he was just being kind hearted.

I liked Hawke. He felt like a protective older brother. I'd always been the oldest, so it was refreshing to have someone else sort everything out.

"Mother, Carver, Gamlen I need to speak to you," he called. There was bark like a thunderclap and a huge Mabari hound came pounding in, throwing himself at Hawke. I was just about to stab the thing to death when I heard Hawke laughing. He vainly fought against a serious attack of huge, wet tongue as the Mabari licked every available inch of his face.

"Down Dog, down," he called. Dog, as he had been imaginatively been named, bounded from Hawke wagging his tail violently. It turned its great head towards me and I swear I saw its eyes narrow. I barely managed to gulp before Dog pounced, pinning me to the floor and giving me the same treatment as Hawke. Its tongue was soaking wet and felt like sandpaper against my skin but I couldn't shift Dog's bulk. I made a sound like a drowning lama and scrunched up my face.

"Dog! No!" Hawke pulled Dog off me, giving him a stern look. To Dog's credit he pulled the best innocent face I have seen so far. Butter would not melt.

"Err…Hello Dog," I rubbed a sleeve over my face in an attempt to remove excess saliva.

He barked happily in reply.

"Who's your friend Garrett?"

I looked up. There were three more people packed into the tiny room, this must be Hawke's family.

"Mother this is a friend, she has nowhere to stay and I think she'll be useful on the Deep Roads Expedition," Hawke began addressing the woman standing in the centre of the group, "So I offered her a bed here, she has no family."

I did but found it easier not to mention that.

The woman's face softened. I could tell that she had once been beautiful, but now with age she was just gracefully elegant. She had a patient face that didn't seem right in such grotty surroundings. Her eyes were a bright blue, the same colour as the material, nobles sometimes use at weddings. So where had Hawke got his golden eyes from? Maybe his father, where was his father?

"Of course," Hawke's mother smiled at me.

"Leandra! We can't just offer a bed to every beggar Hawke brings through the door. This is my house, it's not your right to say," one of the men spoke.

I instantly ruled him out as Hawke's father. He maybe would have been handsome as a youth but it was difficult to tell under bloodshot eyes and clammy skin. Someone obviously likes the dizzy juice.

"And we'd be in my house, Gamlen if you hadn't gambled it away," Leandra replied with a stern look. Maker remind me not to get on her bad side, she was scary when she was angry.

"Dinner will be ready soon, sorry I forgot to ask your name," Leandra turned to me again.

"It's Fen' Harel," I smiled. My mother had taught me manners. I didn't want to think about her.

"Pleased to meet you Fen' Harel. I am Leandra, this is Gamlen," she motioned to the third figure, "and this is Carver. I believe you've already met Garrett."

"Glad to make your acquaintance," I beamed. Leandra seemed pleased.

Carver, Hawke's younger brother didn't look much like him. He had inherited Leandra's blue eyes but his were slightly darker. His jaw was slightly softer but his chin more pronounced with large cheekbones. He looked quite similar to Gamlen, if I was honest, except in physique, it seemed that both the Hawke brothers had inherited that from their father.

I shook Leandra's hand then Carvers, then finally Gamlens resisting the urge to wipe my own hand on my trouser leg afterwards.

"I'm not sure I want her here free of charge," Gamlen grumbled frowning at me but speaking to Leandra.

"I have money," I said producing a sovereign from the pouch at my belt. Templars were way too careless with their money.

Gamlen's eyes lit up.

"Hrmm, well that's refreshing," he grunted and seized the coin, "I'm going out."

I watched him leave slightly confused.

"Three guesses as to where he's going," Carver muttered.

"I know he isn't the best character but he's still your uncle," Leandra said half heartedly.

"He's kind of like a loveable, alcoholic puppy, you couldn't have him any other way," I smiled at them.

"Do you see many them, where you're from?" Carver asked. He was smiling at least and so was Leandra, I was unsure if I had overstepped my mark with that comment.

"Yeah, all the time," I grinned.

Leandra was a really good cook. And I don't say that lightly. I mean a really, _really_ good cook. I could have eaten the table as well if she had poured any of her gravy on it, that's not euphuism. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until she produced two great steaming pots from the dingy little kitchen. One was the fluffiest, lightest mash that had ever had the decency to grace Thedas, seasoned to perfection of course, and the other was meat and a mouthwatering sauce, because calling stew would do it an insult.

"Oh Maker Leandra, I swear this is the best food I've ever tasted," I sighed unable to draw my eyes from the plate.

"Thank you," she smiled. I wasn't brown nosing, it seriously was. Hawke and Carver managed to nod vigorously through mouthfuls. Gamlen strolled in and began shoveling food onto his plate then into his mouth. Leandra rolled her eyes.

"This food taste's slightly Fereldan," I observed, "I mean I can taste the main Fereldan ingredients. Where are you from?"

"Well, I originate from Kirkwall but we've travelled from Fereldan," Leandra said, she seemed pleased at the prospect of conversation.

"Fereldan. I was being shipped, I mean I also came from Fereldan," that was a weak save, but no one seemed to question it.

"Really? Whereabouts?" Leandra's face was eager with interest.

"Mercia," I stated I didn't want to go into detail about that, "what about you?"

"Lothering," she seemed sad.

"I'm sorry," I managed when I remembered that Lothering had been destroyed in the last blight. I was unsure about what to say next. I was about to say something insensitive about Lothering's particular…fragrance but decided against it.  
>"At least you're alive and together," I said solemnly smiling at Leandra. She paused, looking across at Hawke and Carver with pride.<p>

"Yes," she replied. It hurt to see them together like that, to see that look on Leandra's face. I dropped my gaze and continued eating, except this time I didn't really taste my food.

I shared a room with Leandra, Carver, Hawke and Gamlen were packed in another. While they slept in what was loosely called the dining room, Leandra and I stayed in the kitchen. She offered the blanket countless times but I refused. Not just for politeness but because it was stuffy in there. The warm was humid and thick in my throat, it made me uncomfortable and I could never get to sleep when I was hot. I slept by the window, thankful for the cold Free Marches breeze that came from the sea. I felt safe sleeping in Hawke's house, a lot safer than I had felt more awhile. I didn't need to sleep with a knife tucked under my pillow because I was safe in the knowledge that Hawke was in the other room. He had that quality. I completely trusted him, even if I didn't know why, and believed him to be invincible. Leandra woke up twice; she kept calling out to someone in her sleep. Bethany. Who was Bethany? I waited for her to fall asleep then I waited for morning because every time I closed my eyes I could see Blackwater on fire.

"Fen' Harel, Fen' Harel."

Someone was calling my name softly and gently shaking me awake. I opened my eyes. Had I dozed off? I couldn't remember. I must have, a weak strip of light was streaming in through the window, which meant the morning had arrived.

"Breakfast is ready," it was Leandra she was crouched down in front of me. For an odd moment I was confused before my brain fed the rush of information to me. I remembered yesterday, I remembered being tied to the chair, I remembered the elf, Fenris, with the markings then I remembered my deal with Hawke and him offering me a bed at Gamlen's house. I yawned loudly before stretching.

"Breakfast sounds good," I said sleepily.

Carver and Hawke were already eating; Carver while cleaning his huge Great sword and Hawke was tying his Gauntlets. I could hear violent snoring and craned down to see Gamlen muttering away in his sleep under the table.

"Morning," Hawke and Carver said too absorbed in their tasks to glance up at me.

"Morning," I mumbled seating myself before yawning again. I must have been exhausted to doze off last night.

"So what exactly are we going to do?" I asked Hawke, realizing that I'd offered to help without finding out what exactly I was helping with.

"Odd jobs and quests," Hawke said absently.

"Oh how chivalrous of you," I was shocked. I'd thought them smugglers or bounty hunters for sure.

"It's not for free though, err, sorry I've forgotten your name again," Carver looked apologetic.

"Fen' Harel."

"Wait don't you have another elf called Fen something?" Carver looked up at his brother across the battered table.

"Fenris," I answered, "and I'm only half an elf."

I was suspected the usual racist comment but Carver just shrugged. Hawke glanced up but his focus was on his gauntlets again quick enough for me to barely register his movement.

"You remembered his name," he mumbled.

I had hardly spoken to him but then again I had held a knife to his throat. The elf had had the largest impression on me out of Hawke's companions, maybe it was the markings. It was completely justifiable, so why did I suddenly feel embarrassed.

"I have a good memory," I muttered then eager to change subject asked, "What are you raising money for?"

If they were just keeping a living surely they would have found a much easier and less life threatening line of work, they wanted a lot of money and quickly, by any means. Which suggested that they were planning something, something expensive, something interesting?

"We need the money so we can become part of an investment into the deep roads," Hawke said seeming to grow more excited with the plan, "they're salvaging and they usually come back rich".

Well I hadn't expected that.

"And how much more do you need?" I asked, clearly interested myself.

"Not much more," Hawke shrugged.

"Took you long enough," Carver frowned. I noticed that he said you instead of us. Did that mean Carver wasn't included in the deal or was Carver bitter about something?

"So what odd jobs and quests are we doing today?" I asked. I was surprisingly eager to get out there, maybe it was after weeks stuck in a crate. Hawke had retrieved my weapon and handed back to me on the journey to Gamlen's and now it seemed impatient after so long sleeping.

"No one's sent me a letter of late, so we just walk around looking for something," Hawke finished tying his gauntlets and threw me mine.

"But first we have to meet everyone at the Hanged Man," he said, retrieving his staff from the wall.

"Who's 'everyone'?" I asked suspiciously.

You could easily spot the group when you walked in. They had chosen a corner separate to the fumes and drunken noises, most I had seen yesterday. I noticed Isabella immediately, she and Varric seemed at home here, swaying in out of rowdy early morning drinkers as if they were familiar furniture. I also noticed Merrill huddled up in a corner as far away from the bar as humanly possible. Anders was leaning against a wall, glancing fugitively at the door while Fenris just stood, head stopped slightly to avoid attention. But there was someone else with them, someone in Guards uniform who looked entirely uncomfortable in her surroundings.

"Aveline," Hawke addressed her with a friendly pat on the shoulder plate.

"Hawke," she nodded, "Carver."

She turned and narrowed her eyes at me as if she were trying to measure my worth, trying to figure me out. She had light ginger hair and a strong, square face. Her grape green eyes were hard and serious which hinted at a rigid set of morals.

"Who's this," she asked Hawke still studying me. She scanned my body, took stock of my weapon then attempted to stare me out. I didn't look away. I liked my arrangement with Hawke I was not going to be scared off. I would leave when Hawke asked me to.

"Her name is Fen' Harel," Hawke said watching this play out.

Aveline paused, "I don't think I like her," she said bluntly addressing Hawke instead of me.

"You don't know me," I grinned. She seemed surprised by my comment. What had she expected? Me to run home crying?

"Can we trust her?" Aveline asked. I was beginning to get irritated but I didn't want her to see that she was getting to me.

"I trust her," Hawke said. I wanted to smile at him but it seemed too soppy. He trusted me. Strange, I had done nothing to inspire such feelings.

Aveline gave me one last look before dropping her gaze and sitting back down. Isabella seemed visibly entertained.

"Let's get going," Hawke said, leading us outside.

We travelled to Hightown. The vast difference in wealth growing clearer and clearer the higher we climbed. The tired, little shanties grew bolder and grander, marble replacing wood. And although the manors were undeniably beautiful, I found some to be cold and lifeless, lacking the same character as the rundown terraces. However it was difficult to deny the grandeur of main Hightown. I just stood awhile, staring at it all. I couldn't seem to take it all in. Everything was here was huge or tiny, even the trees, there were no half measures. Even though the sheer scope of everything blew my mind it wasn't the only thing that was magnificent in High town. There was the detail, the absolute thoroughness that went into every object. I wasn't very precise myself, but I couldn't help admiring it. Tiny words that made up one letter or a thousand carvings that became one, it was all beautiful. Then there were the colours, they weren't drained like some in Low town. They were rich and vibrant, another display of absolute wealth.

"You okay Princess, you look a bit dazed," Varric asked taking it all in his stride.

"Yeah," I managed, "it's just all so… big."

I grinned at him.

"I've never been somewhere like this before," I almost whispered.

Varric lifted an eyebrow, "bit star struck are we?"

"A bit."

There was a Magistrate hovering by the stairs. He looked pretty desperate but was trying to hide it, probably in an attempt to maintain pride. He spotted Hawke and his eyes lit up.

"You," he said motioning Hawke over with his hands, "I've heard that you are someone who can solve problems… on the sly."  
>I frowned at him 'on the sly'. But Hawke seemed undeterred which made me wonder, how many times had Hawke been in situations like this?<p>

"What's the problem?" Hawke asked.

"There is an escaped criminal on the loose and I need you to bring him in quietly without causing him harm," the Magistrate spoke quietly and fast.

"Where is he?" Hawke asked.

"He's in some abandoned ruins outside of Kirkwall," the Magistrate was about to stalk off but Hawke shuffled in front of him.

"What's going on here, what are you hiding?" Hawke's tone hinted at that underlying iron again, the Magistrate flinched. I didn't envy him.

"There are creatures in the ruins," the Magistrate mumbled, unable to keep eye contact with Hawke, his eyes darting around everywhere and anywhere else.

I turned to Carver, "is this the questy part?"

"Yep, this is the questy part."

"Good," I grinned. I had been looking forward to this.

I gained the distinct impression that I wasn't the only one Aveline disliked. There were several jibes about Isabella's loose behavior which I believed was frankly none of Aveline's damn business. I hadn't known Isabella long but I liked her, she was fun loving and easy to be around. But there was something that confused me about Aveline.

"Aveline?" I said trying not to trip over a protruding rock.

"Yes," she didn't turn to face me just continued to march onwards, so I jumped up till I was striding along with her.

"You are in the Guard yes?" it was hard not to mistake her uniform.  
>"Correct," her answers were short and to the point, talking to her was like drawing blood from a stone.<p>

"Then why are you helping Hawke?"

She paused.

"I wish I knew the answer to that myself." Then she marched off leaving me slightly confused. Well that was a completely pointless conversation.

"Oh, don't mind her," Isabella sidled up beside me flashing me a brilliant smile.

"Is it her time of the month or something?" I asked. There was no need to be so rude and immediately judgmental.

"Unless it's constant I doubt it, to be honest I'm not sure what goes on in her breeches," Isabella frowned for a moment before easing into an easy smile again, "no she's like that all the time."

"She's a bit …prickly," I struggled.

"She's a bitch I know," Isabella said.

I laughed.

"I'm Captain Isabella," she bowed smirking up at me. I grinned widely back.

"A Captain, that's fantastic, do you have a boat I've always wanted to go sailing," I hoped she offered to take me.

"Unfortunately not," she sighed. I opened my mouth.

"Don't ask," she said. She was quite a moment.

"So what's it like," I asked.

"What's what like?"

"Sailing, being on a ship?"  
>She sighed deeply and smiled softly to herself, eyes staring out at some distant horizon I couldn't see.<p>

"It's the best feeling in the world," she said. I had hoped it would be but decided not to say anything.

"Where's your crew," I asked.

"I'm not exactly sure," she wore the same expression as someone who'd lost their socks.

"Were they all pirates like you?"  
>"Not all of them, they came from loads of different places."<p>

"There was Andrian Veelo," she counted them off on his fingers.

"Did he have a parrot or a wooden leg?" I asked.

"No."  
>"An eye patch?"<p>

"No."

"Damn it."  
>"There was wall eyed Sam," she counted another finger off.<p>

"Did he have a wooden leg or parrot?"  
>"No."<p>

"An eye patch?"  
>"No."<p>

"There was Steve," she smiled seeming more amused than irritated.

"Did he…"

"Actually Steve had an eye patch, wooden leg and a parrot," she smiled. I grinned triumphantly.

"I think he's my favorite," I nodded.

"Mine too, it was funny watching him hoist the sails," she smirked. I laughed.

"I bet he was a brilliant dancer," I said.

"Actually he was."  
>We laughed together. It was nice, I felt comfortable in the group suddenly like I fitted in there.<p> 


	5. Skeletons and spiders

Skeletons and giant spiders.

Hawke stopped at the lead. We had arrived at the foot of a mound with an ancient doorway gaping open like a great mouth in front of us. Stationed around its base was a spattering of Guards, they were milling around absent mindedly until they noticed us and straightened up.

"The Magistrate said you were coming," one said as we approached.

He pointed at the cave opening, "he's in there."

At that moment there was a flurry of noise from behind us. We spun as an angry elf marched towards us, pounding up the ground beneath his feet. There was a frantic look to him, his face was twisted up with anger and his eyes burned furiously. My hand rested on my weapon.

"Are you going to let that monster live!" he practically spat at the Guard.

"What's wrong?" Hawke asked unfazed.  
>"That <strong>thing <strong>in there took my daughter," he fumed, "and this isn't the first time, he's killed others."

I seethed disgust. Killing children. I'd rip the bastard's head of myself.

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about this?" Hawke asked calmly for the elf's benefit.

"No one cares about us; he's not taking your pretty little Shem children," the elf fumed. He begged Hawke to kill the man.

"I can't promise to take someone's life," Hawke said sadly.

I had expected an angry outcry but the elf just seemed to… deflate, defeated.

"I'm sorry," Hawke said.

We entered the cave. I disliked liked being underground. The dark didn't bother me at all; I was more at home in the nighttime then the daytime and the flames flickering from Hawke's and Anders' staffs cast enough light to see. I hated being underground because I couldn't see the sky, it made me feel trapped.

I had expected moss ridden rocky walls but the ruins were exactly that, old ruins. Languages that had been forgotten centuries before I was born were carved and painted onto the huge slabs of stone. And it smelt terrible, like we'd just stumbled onto something very old and decaying. The group moved cautiously through the tunnel, the sunlight gradually disappearing behind us. Hawke paused at a huge door that seemed to have formed from the rock itself. Varric whistled at the sheer size of it.

"Carver, Anders can you give me a hand with this," Hawke said, addressing the two men standing either side of him. I was pretty sure that Hawke would have been able to move it on his own, despite its bulk but he was offering Carver yet another chance to prove himself. Why? What was going on with those two?

The three men threw themselves against the door, straining the stone slab backwards. Maybe the grinding sound of stone against stone made me miss the noise at first but the second time it was indisputable. Scuttling noises from behind the door something was lying in wait for them. I grinned. Sneaky devils.

"Hawke keep pushing," I said as I squirmed through the opening.

It took my eyes seconds to adjust to the darkness, another useful side effect of the black Lyrium, but it took the giant spiders a few seconds more to adjust to the new presence in the room. It was enough time to prepare. The Templar's took extra care in shaping me as they wanted. I was an expensive investment after all, they could not afford to slip up and restart the experiment. They had tailored my uniform and my weapon, in some aspects even my appearance, to aid my performance. I had not named the weapon because I didn't really want to, no matter how unbearably comfortable it felt in my palm. It was a Verdium flail of some sorts. At one end was an enormous wickedly curved, razor sharp blade, lines from the Chant of Light inscribed in black on the top of the metal. The blade was attached to a chain that ended with a type of handle that fit snugly around in my hand. On each link of the chain was a tiny engraved wolf head, a speck of black Lyrium at its centre. It was this trick that gave the weapon its power. I could control the Lyrium, meaning I could control the blade. It just felt like another extension of my body most of the time. That thought terrified me.

I sent a pulse through the chain. It instantly stiffened and using it as a spear I sliced through the two front legs of the spider bearing down on me. It tittered and shrieked horrible as I spun the spear slicing it through it head. The blade sang as I swung it free from the spider's now halved head. Another spider approached from the right, scuttling towards me on armored legs. Another pulse and the chains were loose, it sailed, cutting the air before embedding itself into the second spiders head. Without hesitation, I wrapped the chain around my wrist and cut it back through the neck of another. Their numbers had dropped in a few moments. Some were beginning to slink away while the bolder ones continued to charge, hoping to overpower me in numbers. I lifted the blade by pulling the chain upwards, which felt light despite its size and slammed it down onto the back on the spider that had almost knocked me to the floor. There was a sickening crack as the spiders exo- skeleton was crushed underneath. Then a flash of movement as another attempted to catch me unaware. I jumped backwards, dragging the blade with me; it trailed a sickly thick blood along the floor. My hand flexed as I sent another pulse through the weapon, then jabbed it through the spiders eye. It convulsed before hanging uselessly. I turned it's corpse over with the aid of the still embedded weapon then began to move the others out of the way.

"Nice work," Hawke smiled at me, as he shoved the door against the wall.

"Thanks," I said rubbing spider blood from my face with the back of my hand.

Hawke lead us deeper into the ruins, a maze of tunnels that converged into large circular rooms every now and then. What had they been used for? Who else had I walked these ruins? And the thought made me feel tiny in a way that was frightening yet exciting at once. There were walking corpses further in, I had at first attempted to trail with Isabella but found that the lithe way she enveloped her targets, slipping in and out between them in a flurry of precise strikes didn't work well with my combat style so I decided to stay with Carver. He was talented but obviously lacked training. I caught every shambling corpse heading for a weak spot that he'd left open. It didn't seem to deter him much and we worked pretty well together managing to keep out of each other's feet. I gave myself a mental note to talk to Carver afterwards. Finished with the adversaries nearby I spun to the rest of the group and quickly realized that I wasn't about to be held back.

Merrill was the nearest encased in supernatural amour created entirely by rock as if she were sheathed in a Golem's embrace. Electric green was shooting from the tip of her staff, striking the Skeleton directly in the chest. I could barely see Isabella, just a flash of gold and thick brown hair as daggers were plunged into a corpse's chest. Varric was nearby grinning as he unleashed a bolt directly into one's skull, it exploded into dry dust. Aveline was methodically defending before striking, face grim set. Hawke was impressive; his hands aflame, he swiped a wall of flame swallowing enemies nearby and those left he cut down with the bladed end of his staff. At his back was Anders. My eyes narrowed. I had thought I'd felt something unusual about him before, my suspicions were true. I could sense it before I felt it, a current connecting him to somewhere I couldn't reach. Anders was an Abomination. An ambient blue light cracked and glowed underneath the surface of his skin as if Ander's real body were just a suit and the real Ander's were breaking through. And beneath brown eyes glow two blue luminescent orbs. There was a flurry of movement and I spun in time to see Fenris slicing the last Skeleton. The Lyrium markings and his blade were radiating a deep blue that was startling in the gloom. He was using the markings to help him fight was that possible? Evidently so. His face was bathed in the blue as he wore a determined snarl. He moved so quick and with so much force behind the blows. Was it the markings? I needed to know. I needed to know if I was capable of attacks like that.

Together we cleaned the place out pretty quickly. Carver seemed grudgingly gratefully for the back up; I wanted him to know I didn't offer it because I thought he was inadequate but felt this wasn't the best place to talk about it. I needed to talk to Fenris, I was desperate to discuss the markings but felt that this wasn't the best place for that conversation either. However Anders decided that maybe this was the best place for small talk. I sighed. Even the blood mage would be better than him at the moment. He smiled friendly; I kept my eyes at dead centre and quickened my pace. I dared a glance back and tried not to giggle at his confused and dejected face. Hawke suddenly stiffened at the lead and ran forward.

"Are you okay?" he was crouched over a figure.

It was a little girl. The elf was curled up on the floor in the centre of the passageway. My mind instantly screamed trap. I placed a hand protectively on my blade and glared suspiciously at the walls.

"Who are you?" the girl asked looking up at Hawke with slightly dazed eyes. I doubted if she knew where she was.

"My name's Garrett Hawke, are you hurt? What happened?" he asked.

"My name's Lia and no I'm fine."

Lia? Wasn't she the elf's daughter had to be but she was alive, where was the convict?  
>"Where's the man who talk you Lia?" Hawke asked softly.<p>

"Don't hurt him! Please he hasn't done anything wrong," she pleaded. This man had kidnapped her; he'd killed other children why was she so concerned about his life?

"Calm down, tell me what happened," Hawke said patiently.

"He started yelling at me, hitting at me. I was so scared then he just... pushed me away and started crying. He told me to leave. Don't you see, he didn't want to hurt me," she seemed upset and as confused as I was.

"It's ok, your father's waiting for you outside," Hawke pointed towards the exit, "we cleared the way."

Lia eyed the doorway hungrily and made to run off but stopped herself.

"Promise me you won't hurt him," she whispered to Hawke eyes on the floor.

Surely Hawke couldn't agree to this? That bastard had killed children before and if we didn't stop him was likely to again. I couldn't imagine being the parents of one of those children and frantically I didn't want to.

"I can't promise that," Hawke said sadly.

I had realised something about Hawke, he never made promises he couldn't keep.

There was a last defence of Skeleton's in the next passageway. They took us by surprise rising up at our fronts and backs. I was near Varric at the back, so close that one could raise a bony arm to stroke my hair. Varric turned but I could already tell he wouldn't be fast enough. On sheer impulse I jerked the blade backwards in the general direction of the skeleton bearing down on the charismatic dwarf. There was a shot and the skeleton behind me was flung against the wall, smashing on impact.

"Thanks for the save Princess," he chuckled at the sight of my blade protruding from the top of the Skeleton's skull.

'My pleasure," I grinned, "if we didn't have you there'd be a lack of witty comments."

"True," he said.

Truth was I liked Varric, he oozed a charm that made you feel more comfortable with yourself by just being near him. And his comments were witty.

The last skeleton just kind of groaned and shambled towards us. We waited for it to come over, which took five long minutes then kicked it to the ground. With a feet shoved on its rib cage I held it in place while Varric shot it between the eyes. Hawke had just about finished when we had but everyone seemed a bit bored with the lack of competition except Merrill.

Kelder was in the next room. He'd propped himself pitifully against a pillar with an expression that I supposed was similar to that of someone who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. Except Kelder didn't carry the weight of the world. Kelder killed children. I felt that familiar twist of loathing and disgust. He barley acknowledged our presence, his gaze lying heavily on the floor.

"Are you called Kelder?" Hawke asked approaching cautiously.

"Yes, my name's Kelder," he sighed, "Did my father send you?"  
>"I'm not sure if I know your father," Hawke replied.<p>

"He's a Kirkwall Magistrate."  
>"Then, yes, your father did send me."<p>

Kelder lifted his head leaning it against the pillar. "You can't see the sky in here", I thought, "too much stone."

"Why did you let the girl go?" Hawke asked. I got the impression that he hoped there was another explanation that Kelder wasn't just a killer. 'Fear no monsters but men'. My grandfather had told me that, he didn't talk much but I remembered that.

"I didn't want to hurt her I swear, she was just so beautiful," he sighed.

I had to grip the blade tighter to stop myself from beating him to death. Beautiful! Beautiful enough to die! I ground my teeth, trying to restrain the boiling hate in the pit of my stomach.

"The voices they tell me to do it, they talk to me, it's not fair that she's so beautiful," he continued, "I didn't want to hurt her I swear."

"Pathetic," Isabella snarled.

"My father's a good man..."  
>"I don't give a toss about your father," I barked venomously, "Don't you realise what you've done, you murdered them, they'd barely started a life and you took it from them!"<p>

I couldn't hold it in anymore. It was red hot because that was the worst part. He didn't even understand what he'd done wrong. The images of those tiny little bodies, crumpled and broken fed the fire. Why weren't those images burning him up now? Did he even know their names?

Kelder looked slightly shocked for a second as if I'd slapped him but no one else batted an eyelid. Kelder sighed as if he were coming to terms with his fate.

"Kill me or take me to my father," he said softly.

I was struggling with myself too much to offer an opinion but it seemed that everyone else seemed to share the same opinion on the matter.

"He's a monster," Aveline said calmly, "Kirkwall's better off without him."  
>"If you don't want to kill him Hawke, I'd be glad to," Fenris snarled.<p>

Hawke looked to Carver who nodded once.

"You deserve to die," Hawke said it quietly but it wasn't without malice, it dripped with the same hate for the man as I felt. Hawke slit Kelder's throat and we left seconds after the body hit the floor.

When we re-emerged into the sunlight, I was still wound up but feeling better than I had before. I stretched letting the sun drench my bones. I wasn't a fan of the heat but Kirkwall was the exception so far. The sun was lazy, a mild heat opposed to the usual accusing glare. That combined with the constant chilled breeze gave Kirkwall a pleasant climate. Lia had found her father; they were smiling and hugging one another in relief.

I looked away.

The elf noticed Hawke approaching and smiled up at him.

"Did you get him? Did you kill him?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes he's dead," Hawke said.

"He finally got what he deserved," the elf smiled maliciously I didn't blame him, "I can't thank you enough but I hope this will do."

He pressed gold into Hawke's palm.

"Come on Lia," he smiled at his daughter, "let's go home."

But Lia didn't leave immediately. She looked directly at Hawke right in the eyes, with the most... disappointed and confused look I've ever scene it was as if Hawke had slip her throat instead. Hawke sunk a little.

When we arrived back in Low town, I trudged home with Carver and Hawke. Hawke was pretty quite and Carver didn't seem eager to disturb him. He was still upset about Lia. But it wasn't his fault, didn't he realise that?

"I wonder what Leandra's cooking for us," I said licking my lips.

"I couldn't care less if it was Gamlen at the moment I'm starving," Carver said stretching his arms above his head.

"Though I'd prefer it not to be Gamlen," I pointed out.

"I dunno, it might shut him up for a bit," Carver said.

I shrugged, "can't argue with that, even the prospect of cannibalism didn't seem a step too far with some of Gamlen's stories."

We both remembered his tales over dinner last night and shivered simultaneously.

Hawke smiled. At least that seemed to lift the mood a bit. Hawke couldn't save everyone no matter how much he wanted to, not even he was capable of that.

Leandra was just plating up as we came through the door. It was some form of thick Lamb soup, the delicious smell making my mouth water. She saw us and smiled warmly.

"Just in time," she said placing the two dishes on the table, "have you seen Gamlen?"

"No, sorry mother," Hawke said pulling up a chair next to her. I sat opposite Leandra and Carver sat next to me opposite Hawke. It was odd; both their surnames were the same but only Garrett was referred to as Hawke. It just seemed right that way, Hawke was always the leader and I couldn't imagine it any other way. To be honest you wouldn't suspect that Hawke and Carver were related until told otherwise.

"Where's Gamlen?' Carver asked noticing the empty chair.

"I've just asked if you've seen him," Leandra rolled her eyes.

Gamlen's missing. I widened my eyes and opened my mouth turning my head to Carver slowly who looked puzzled at first then reflected my mock shocked face.

"He's in the stew," we both whispered staring down at it as if it were the devil himself.

Hawke grinned widely but Leandra gave us an utterly confused look.

Then Carver shrugged undeterred and began digging into his soup anyway. I laughed along with Hawke and Leandra finally gave in and smiled along with us.

After dinner I began rooting around in the small backpack Hawke had retrieved from the docks. I'd thought that the Templars would definitely throw it out but it had just been thrown on top of my spare sets of amour in the crate next to me. Finally my hands gained purchase on a bundle of books I'd strung together with cheap rope. I pulled the book I wanted out giving the old leather a found pat before returning to the dining room. We'd finished dinner half an hour ago and Gamlen rolled in just as I entered.

"He returns from the grave," I smiled.

"Strange girl," Gamlen muttered dismissively. I felt my smile widen at his slightly perplexed expression.

I plonked myself next to Carver spreading the book onto the table.

"What's this?" he asked frowning at the tattered, yellowing pages.

"I saw you fighting today," he opened his mouth so I continued quickly before he could argue, "and your talented..."  
>He seemed slightly shocked. What had he expected me to say?<p>

"...But you haven't been given much training," I continued.

"My father was a mage. He tried to teach me but there was only so much he could do," Carver frowned.

So Hawke took after his father. Maybe that was what was going on between him and Carver, it sounded as if their lives had been mainly mage orientated. With both Hawke and his father being apostates the focus would be on them nearly all the time. Maybe Carver felt left out and maybe even jealous of his brother? I couldn't relate. I'd always been the oldest; maybe James knew how he was feeling. Then again James had been the oldest boy therefore the golden boy in my mother's eyes until... No, don't think about that.

"Well this should help," I flicked through the pages, "I found it in a corner in the...place where the Templars were training me. Some Templar recruit must have left it behind. It's all about Templar's two handed weapon training, it wasn't very useful to me but it was something to read."

I opened the book, smoothing the spine out under my fingers. The page was full of detailed diagrams with paragraphs of notes and explanations sprawled around them.

"Here this is where I think you're going wrong," Carver studied the page carefully, "your attacks have more than enough power, that's a good thing but you need to keep momentum. It's not just slash; you need to keep your sword moving."

Carver nodded full attention on the page, soaking up every tiny bit of information possible. I flicked to another page, this one was split into two, one illustrated with a rogue and a warrior Templar and the other had just two warrior Templars.

"You and your brother are outbalanced. Both your attacking styles are aggressive, when you work in a group it needs to split equally, half attacks, half defends. You'd perform at your best with Aveline because she's mainly defensive," I explained pointing out methods on the pages.

"So that's what you were doing in the ruins today," he mused still never lifting his eyes from the page, "you were using my attacks while you defended."

"Yeah but I work alot better at attack, my defence isn't brilliant," I said standing up.

Carver glanced up, "can I have a look at this, I promise I won't damage it."

"You can have it, I don't need it," I shrugged.

He nodded in thanks then drew the book closer to him, reading every word with intense concentration as if it were the most interesting book in existence. To him it probably was. I wasn't sure what to do with myself now, and then remembered that I probably still have spider's blood spattered across my face.

Gamlen's bathroom was disgusting. Leandra had placed herbs in there to make it bearable but no amount of hard work and crushed Lavender was going to get rid of the grimy feeling in there. At least Leandra had left nice smelling soaps and hair cleaners for my use and the cold water didn't really bother me greatly. Feeling better, I dried and dressed myself in the tiny room. It was the only room in the house with a mirror. At first I'd tried to ignore it but eventually curiosity won over. It had been a year or so since the Templars had stopped getting me used to my new appearance and at first it had been a shock but I'd gradually began to familiarize myself with it. Most of the time I felt as though I'd always been this way, that I'd been born with this in design and all the Templars had done was trace over the images already there.

I was a frame larger than Isabella but lacked the gently muscled arms and legs gained from a life of sailing. My skin was quite pale too and irritatingly sensitive. It had the nasty habit of turning red quickly, something I despised. My face was oval with a strong jaw and chin, although thankfully not strong enough to be deemed masculine. Because of my heritage my nose was pretty straight, not like Merrill and Fenris nonetheless and as a quirk of cross breeding had a small buttony curve on the end. My ears however were all elf, curved into a sharp point that one of my friends in Fereldan used to flick when we were play fighting. My eyes were quite large, not huge and innocently rounded like Merrill's but not seductively almond shaped like Isabella's. My eyes had been the quality the Magister had seemed most pleased with. They were a startling shade of blue, almost white at the pupil the blue grew darker to a startling light blue at the edges.

I had realised quickly after the 'experiment' that the Magisters were very focused on facade; they tailored me to appear a certain way. With some charm that felt like a lighting bolt shooting through my head they had been able to transform my hair from its natural Dalish dark blonde to a pitch black. The desired effect of making my appearance more shocking had been achieved as it contrasted greatly with my eyes and skin. To be honest I really liked my hair, it was a change I had welcomed, mixing my blood with an alien substance and scarring my back being changes that didn't share the same enthusiasm. They'd cut my hair quite short too. The back just stoking the skin halfway down my neck, it was gradually cut longer until the front pieces touched my colour bone. The style was not straight but messy and heavily layered and my fringe cut jagged across my face, the end slightly covering the end of my right eye. I realised that Fenris' was cut similarly and wondered if the Trevinter designed their bodyguards to appear a certain way. I had to say the rough cut was more intimidating than a neat one.

The Trevinter mages had also designed my amour, which had now become all my clothes. I noticed again that these were similar to Fenris' but much more feminine. My shirt underneath was quite tight, as a way of exposing my curves, and the material was cut like an upside down w at the top, to cover each of my breasts and the same time as showing them off. They'd dressed my bottom half in trousers similar to the style some Rivaini women favoured. They looked like a sultan's trousers, the material light and loose only pulled in at my ankles and waist. I wore a heavy belt that my weapon wrapped round so the blade hung reassured against my left leg. I walked with bare feet like my Dalish family members had. I had inherited their rock hard soles and my movements felt restricted and clumpy in shoes. Finally I swung my jacket on, my favourite piece of clothing by far. The material was rich and hardened until arrows practically bounced off it. It was like a noble man's jacket embroidered heavily around the edges and with a small raised collar. It was fitted to curve where I curved and just ended at the bottom of my waist. The clothes were dyed in blacks, blues and silvers. I hadn't changed. I hadn't expected to.

As soon as I exited the bathroom, Gamlen stumbled in, pushing me roughly out the way. I heard strained noises from within. I gagged and strolled back into the dining room. Carver was still reading and Leandra was sitting by the fire. Where was Hawke? I scanned the room he was talking to someone by the door. I instantly recognized Varric's honey tones. Hawke glanced over his shoulder and noticed me standing there.

"I'm going to the Hanged Man, Fen' Harel, Carver you want to come?" Hawke asked still looking at me over his broad shoulder.

Carver grunted and hauled himself to his feet in reply.

"Yeah I'd like to come," I said immediately.

"I'd been hoping you say that Princess," Varric leaned against the doorway smiling at me.

My stomach was uneasy with nerves just before I stepped into The Hanged Man. I was shy around new people and although I'd just battled alongside them all day I still wasn't certain that my nerve would hold out. If that happened I suppose I could always just talk to Carver. But I really shouldn't have worried.

Varric strolled into the Hanged Man like a king returned with me, Hawke and Carver in tow. It was already dark outside by now and the Hanged Man was packed with workers drinking their day's pay. The steady thrum of conversation was quite stimulating however, I loved drunks anyway. They talked nonsense and weren't embarrassed about it. A few of Hawke's other companions were already seated in the same corner they'd congregated in this morning. I was surprised to find Anders there but it was Fenris' presence that shocked me the most. To be honest he looked shocked that he was here too. Merrill was there waving Hawke over with a broad grin. I couldn't see Isabella she'd been the one I had definitely expected to see. I was quite disappointed.

"Hawke!" someone called.

Isabella was half leaning against the bar, leisurely crossing her long legs in front of her.

"Glad to see you make it," she smirked.

Hawke stared before regaining his composure and having to rip his gaze from Isabella.

"So am I," he smiled.

Was that a slight blush? I grinned to myself. Carver didn't notice a thing and continued to worm his way through the happy crowds, heading straight to the table as if it were an old ritual. Did they always meet like this? Maybe it was a ritual. Alcohol seemed like a good enough ritual for me and I followed Carver. We stopped at the table. Anders and Merrill smiled but Fenris just stared up at us.

"We'll need another chair," Anders said whipping one from the table behind him.

"Thanks," I said careful not to touch his skin as I sat down. I sat in-between Carver and Fenris. It was a better option than between a blood mage and an Abomination. It wasn't that I was scared of them, killing Abominations was as natural as breathing to me after years of the Templar training. But their extended company made my stomach prickly; I had to fight my basic instinct constantly in close proximity. Although I was painfully aware of Fenris' presence which irritated me greatly because I didn't exactly know why.

I'd barely sat down when Isabella slammed the cups down in the middle of the table; Hawke deposited his load as well before sitting in-between Anders and Carver. Hands shot out and grabbed pints from the centre of the table, I followed suit quickly realising that the Hanged Man seemed to serve only two types of alcohol, cheap and nasty and very cheap and very nasty. I sipped the liquid and had to stop myself from gagging. It tasted like the original ingredients, rotten fruit. Varric noticed my face, and laughed.

"You get used to it after awhile, Princess," he said.

"Here's to escaping another job unscathed," Hawke said raising his glass.

"To not dying," we chorused.

"That's a mean looking weapon you had out there," Varric said eyeing the huge curved blade at my side, its tip gently touching my knee, "What's it called."  
>"It doesn't have a name," I said, "just that sharp thing I stab people with."<p>

"A crime, something as beautiful as that deserves a name," Varric frowned. It was beautiful, I couldn't deny that but I hadn't thought to name it.

"Sofia," Varric said proudly. I was about to look around for another drinking guest when Varric continued.

"Your blade, I've decided that Sofia is an apt name for it," Varric leaned back in his chair.

"Sofia," I said tasting the name in my mouth, it seemed to fit perfectly. I smiled, "I agree."

I drank heartily with the others. Varric was right it wasn't that bad the second time round. I smiled as the Alcohol warmed my belly and throat and sighed contented.

"So I asked, did all of you come to Kirkwall together or did Hawke hire you," I asked feeling bolder suddenly. Of course I could talk to these people, I was fine.

"Not really," Varric said, "Hawke came to my brother first asking to join the expedition but my brother turned him down. With Bartrand being thicker than the Grand Clerics knickers I thought it best to have Hawke come along. So we got some maps," he nods to Anders, "and now we're raising the money."  
>"So you based you're trust in Hawke on the basis that your brother's...dim," I asked.<p>

"Very dim, yes," Varric nodded leaning back in his chair, "and we've seemed to pick everyone else up along the way to be honest."

"I've only been running around with them for two days," Isabella said.

"So how did you find them all," I asked Hawke.

I spent most of the night listening to how each of them met, it was all embellished with 60% of it absolute bullshit. I joined in of course.

"Then he fire balled it and, he and Anders leisurely continued their conversation," I finished in my usual voice. Merrill clapped.

"I like that version better," she smiled.

"What I don't understand is how the dragon got in the clinic," Anders said lifting the point to his lips.

"It's a very big clinic and quite a small dragon," I shrugged.

"Of course," Fenris nodded as if Anders had asked the stupidest question known to man.

"And it's all true isn't it Hawke?" Varric said.

"Yeah, happens to me all the time," Hawke said well naturedly.

I listened to the other stories. It was pretty easy to pick out the real stories behind the fabricated ones. I didn't see the point of adding anything on; the stories were just as interesting without Varric's aid. Adventures I'd always dreamed about as a child. Thank the Maker; I didn't think I was going to be bored with Hawke. Isabella taught me how to play, well cheat at cards for the rest of the night and I listened intently as she remised sometimes about past lives.

"Do people ever gamble their lives?" I asked. It was a question that leads to even more stories and an obvious answer of far too often. Carver tapped my shoulder.

"Fen' Harel," he said, "can I have a game we're leaving in abit."  
>I noticed that Merrill had already left and that there was only one pint left at the centre of the table.<p>

Isabella gave a quick little wave and I smiled in reply. Then I remembered that I wanted to speak to someone. I wanted to ask Fenris about his performance in combat today. Fenris was drinking slowly and listening to Hawke, Anders and Varric's conversation but not taking an active part in it.

"Fenris," I said turning to him.

"Yes," he spun slightly to face me and I couldn't help but noticing again how dark his green eyes was.

"I wanted to ask you about what you did today," I said in a serious tone, "while you were fighting. You were able to use the... markings somehow, to improve your skills."  
>"And what exactly did you want to ask," he said narrowing his eyes.<p>

"How did you do it?"

"I was trained to," he said bluntly.

"Can you train me to?"

He was taken aback by the question. I saw his eyes widen and he paused for a second, surprise evident on his face. He obviously hadn't expected that. He didn't answer immediately, just mulled it over for awhile. This was driving me crazy. I hated waiting.

"I'll think about it," he said returning to his pint.

"What kind of an answer is that?" I asked. Maker, a simple yes or no wasn't much. I hated maybes, they meant more waiting.

"My answer," he said.

"Urghh," I growled clearly irritated.

"How about you teach me this and in return I promise to teach you something," I bargained with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, I wouldn't make offers like that," Isabella smirked over her shoulder, "you never know what he's going to ask you."

I pretended that I didn't hear that. Fenris polished off his pint before answering.

"I accept your offer."

I smiled at the prospect of the new abilities could I gain from this training.

"Thank you," I said.

I was actually slightly thankful when Hawke decided to leave a few minutes later. The cheap alcohol had me slightly drowsy and I was ready for bed.


	6. Training begins

Training begins.

I was glad in a way when the Hawkes argued the next morning. It was reassurance that they were in fact a human family. Arguments came with the irritation of living with others, like couples. The general jist of it was Carver was bitterly jealous of Hawke because Hawke always came first in everything and at everything. Hawke's general heroic aura was really annoying sometimes but Carver didn't get anywhere by whingeing about it. Leandra's motherly nature seemed to backfire in these situations because she began patronising both the Hawke brothers, which really wasn't helping the situation. They all loved each other, even though Hawke and Carver's manly man-ness stopped them from saying it out loud but family arguments were good way to blow off steam. I tried to read despite the raised voices. I didn't want to get involved but found myself listening anyway, especially when Gamlen came in and started yelling about something completely relevant. I used the confused silence to offer a distraction.

"What are we doing today?" I asked snapping my book shut with a heavy thud.

"Nothing today but tonight we're going to attack a band of bandits Aveline told me about," Hawke said.

"Okay so nothing in the daytime?" I asked turning to face him. He shook his head. Good, it gave me an opportunity to begin my training.

"Do any of you know where Fenris lives?" I asked stretching my arms out until the bones cracked.

"Yes, why?" Hawke seemed genuinely interested.

"He's going to teach her how to do that glowy thing," Carver demonstrated vaguely 'glowy thing' with his hands.

"Oh," Hawke said, "I can take you there if you like?"  
>"Thanks," I smiled at him.<p>

Fenris apparently lived in High town. I hadn't expected an escaped slave to live somewhere as grand as there.

Hawke lead me to what looked like an abandoned mansion which wasn't abandoned of course or he wouldn't have leaded me there. The windows weren't boarded up because despite Fenris' obvious lack of welcome graces that would draw unwanted attention. The mansion was inconspicuous in spite of the fact that it was a seemingly abandoned mansion. I wondered how it went unnoticed. Maybe it was one of those things that you walked past everyday but never really looked at it properly until someone pointed it out.

Hawke pushed the door open without knocking.

It was huge inside and quite as the grave. I liked it oddly enough; I liked the strange sensation that felt as though we were the last people alive. Hawke lead me up the stairs and opened yet another door. This room was warm. A fire was lit in the fireplace and that doubled with the lack of light from the haphazardly boarded windows, cast shadows against the floor and walls.

Fenris was sitting in one of two armchairs near the fire, facing the door. He didn't seem to have noticed our entrance. He was staring at nothing in particular with an odd expression, as though his mind had summoned old memories for him, painful ones, and the flickering light from the fire cast strange shapes across his face.

"Fenris," Hawke said gently.

Fenris snapped to attention like he'd just come up for air. I noticed his dark green eyes watching me and Hawke carefully.

"Hawke, have a seat," he nodded to the chair.

Hawke glanced at me before sitting but I waved my hand and curled myself onto the floor instead.

"Why are you here? I thought the bandits operated at night," Fenris said.

"Fen' Harel asked me to bring her here," Hawke said. I shifted awkwardly reluctant for the focus to be on me.

"You're that eager to learn this," Fenris asked.

"No time like the present," I smiled up at him.

"Indeed," he said and gave a slight lopsided smile back. My heart tightened slightly, sensation I didn't expect and equally did not want.

Hawke left pretty quickly. He said something about seeing Aveline while he was here but I wasn't really interested I was too busy exploring Fenris mansion.

"Stop that," he snapped after the third time of me getting distracted and wandering off while he lead us to a room that was more suitable for sparring.

"Sorry," I mumbled fighting the urge to peer down yet another mysterious doorway, "but you really shouldn't live in such a big house if you don't want to search it."  
>"It's not my house," he said bitterly.<p>

I smiled. "Fenris the great warrior squatter doesn't sound very impressive."  
>"Neither does Fen' Harel the student of the great warrior squatter," he mumbled. I smirked. He had me there.<p>

"Who does it belong to then if not you?" I asked.

"My former master Darius," he tried to say it drily but I couldn't mistake the undercurrent of hate there.

"Is he dead?" I asked hoping he'd say yes.

"Unfortunately not," this time Fenris didn't even try to hid the raw loathing and I was slightly taken aback by it. I wanted to say something but it everything that sprang to mind seemed inappropriate so I decided that silence was better anyway.

"You were a slave?" He stated more like a fact than a question.

"Of sorts," I replied quietly. Not the same type of slavery as his but slavery nonetheless.

"Who sold you to the Templars?" Fenris asked clearing his throat.

It was silent for a moment, the heavy kind. There was a word ringing and flashing around inside my head but I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"You I suspect would understand if I said I didn't want to talk about it until I feel like talking about," I was surprised at how raw my voice sounded.

Fenris studied me for a while, carefully observing my face. I was scared that he might pry but thankfully he just nodded and continued to walk. The next silence wasn't uncomfortable at all; in fact it was refreshingly easy. The sort of silence I enjoyed when I was on my own.

The designated 'sparring room' was smaller than I had expected. Larger than most rooms but smaller than the vast chamber I had been expecting. The room was on the third floor which meant that the now decaying roof was above us. It was reassuring in a way to know that I had easy access to the outside, and a few rays of sunlight had managed to gasp into the room through broken and absent tiles. It was empty too, one of the few rooms that had been cleared of debris which lead me to believe that Fenris practiced often.

"I think it's best if we start off with you showing me what you can do," he said drawing his sword leisurely and taking uncharacteristically relaxed stance at the centre of the room.

I didn't know how to answer him, because the answer was near enough nothing.

"I can manipulate my weapon," I said, "then there are the little gifts that help me be especially sneaky, and a resistance to magic."

He paused, "but no abilities that you activate yourself?"

I nodded in response, "the Templars were pretty eager to be rid of the Trevinter mages."

"Do you hate them?"

The question caught me off guard and I just stared at him shocked while my brain tried to compute the information. He was waiting intensely for an answer. A memory came flooding back, a memory of a chilled winter morning.

The frost was still hard on the ground and the cold had crept deep into my bones. My breath materialized in front of my face as I gasped in the sharp winter air. I wished the cold would turn my body numb so the stinging throb in my face would fade but it didn't.

"Stab him," the Templar yelled in my face. I was scared, I shrank further back on my knees but I was too exhausted to gain any real distance between us. I remembered his name Ser Degan, one of more impatient and violent ones. He was a bully simply put, probably unsecure about his lack of power and apparently beating the crap out of me made him feel better about his waste of a life. The Templar was pointing furiously at another figure, a boy, mage who had apparently practiced blood magic. An unfortunate decision because he'd now ended up as practice for me. The boy was barely twelve four years younger than I had been.

"Stab him!" Ser Degan practically screamed in my face as his armoured hand whipped round to back hand me again. I yelped as the metal cut into the skin. I saw a bright flash and tasted copper.

"No!" I managed through a mouth full of blood. My pride hurt more than my face. I'd managed to stay quiet until then but I couldn't do it. He was just a boy. I couldn't do it, every fibre in my body was screaming at me not to do it.

"Bloody useless," Ser Degan mumbled disappointedly. He rammed his foot into my chest and I felt the air rush from my body. There was a moment of panic as I realised that I could no longer breathe and truly believed that I would die. Then life flooded back into me, each breath burning painfully and bringing the knowledge of the growing agonized ache in my stomach with it. My head was pulled back up so I could see crisp grey skies and an army of clouds. Still on my knees I must have looked like I was praying. My eyes registered movement as Ser Degan stalked past me towards the boy who was huddled against the wall, desperately clawing. Ser Degan drew his sword and the boy began to cry uncontrollably, pleading as the tears flooded his face. He absolutely terrified. I knew I should have closed my eyes but I couldn't. I watched dumbly as Ser Degan killed the boy.

"Bloody useless," he muttered again but I barely registered. I sank to the floor. All for nothing. I didn't take my eyes from the broken body of the boy.

"Yes," I said addressing Fenris in the present. I hoped he could see my eyes burning, I hoped he could feel me burning.

"Good," he said, "You'll need that."

He adopted a fighting stance and nodded for me to follow suite. I drew the newly named Sofia and waited for his next instruction.

"Think about them," Fenris snarled. I recognised the utter contempt on his face as a sign that he was thinking about them too. I couldn't imagine hating someone that much, how did he live with it?

I did as he asked. The image of Blackwater blazed violently in all its horrific glory and I felt it. It was raw and rushing like a waterfall. A beast curled in my stomach drying to rip itself free with so much force that I felt as if I'd blow up. I hadn't ever called on the images myself. I felt dangerous. This wasn't just my usual promises of instability with prospects of exploding. This was strangely controlled. It dripped and burned through my body like hot wax and in the red I found that my actions were conscious and controlled. I was strangely hyper-aware of the mark on my back; it was pressing softly into my skin as if merging with me further. The sensation was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, just there.

"That took less time than I had expected," Fenris grinned; it was a strange grin ferocious and predatory. I noticed that he was radiating that fierce blue light again. It sharpened and softened his features at the same time making him appear innocently guilty. My eyes ate his face hungrily, devouring every line and contour of his skin, every eyelash and slight curve of his lip.

"Let's spar," I grinned devilishly, the sudden rush of adrenaline was killing me. I needed to move desperately. He swung at me but I skipped aside alot faster than I normally would have. It felt right fighting like this, like my body had been waiting desperately for it. I felt lighter, free and wispy like Fenris was trying to catch smoke. He didn't stop moving but swung his sword towards me. I slipped under it, stroking the steel as I did. Because I could. Because I wanted to tease Fenris with the knowledge that he had missed me again. But that was exactly what that damn sly elf had been expecting and I was knocked onto my ass as he kicked me.

He smirked down at me infuriatingly fully aware that he'd pissed on my bonfire.

I glared up at him which only made his grin broaden.

"This time," I said hauling myself to my feet.

Three hours later and we were both covered in cuts and bruises. I hadn't managed to beat him... yet. He always caught me as I went to rush the final blow, something I hadn't learned to remedy yet despite his triumphant smile. The most magnificent fail so far had been the time when I had managed to defeat myself. I had attempted to gracefully skid out of the way of one of Fenris' mighty blows however I slipped and my legs flew up to touch my head as my butt continued to kindle a fond friendship with the hard floor. I had been utterly confused for a moment then Fenris had to wait five minutes until I stopped laughing. He did laugh however at first but stopped after it sounded loud and unused in the decaying house.

"That's enough for today," Fenris said leading me out the house.

"I'll come back when I can," I said tying Sofia to my waste again. I felt that I had achieved alot here, I'd managed to create the same illuminating aura as Fenris but mine was a shadowy black instead of the brilliant blue of Fenris'. And it didn't glow, just kind of curled and flickered around my body like smoke, as if I was really smouldering on the inside. Fenris lead me to the door and returned back inside, allowing me to make my own way home. It didn't bother me; I would've done the same thing.

I passed Carver in the Low town market. He was just wondering around causally pausing to look at the stalls but not really inspect the merchandise. He noticed me approaching.

"I wouldn't go in there at the moment," he said jerking his head in the general direction of Gamlen's house, "mother and Uncle Gamlen are arguing."

He didn't really seem too bothered about it, so I guessed it happened alot.  
>"What are you up to?" I asked Carver. I wasn't just making small talk, a skill I lacked, I actually wanted to know. Since going home wasn't an option and I hadn't really wanted to sit inside anyway, I'd thought about wondering around but there didn't seem to be anywhere you could just walk around in Kirkwall. Everywhere was packed with seas of people.<p>

I had walked alot when I lived back in Mercia since there had been a forest there. I'd loved the forest, some nights I even tried to sneak out to sleep in there, I always got caught of course. I felt that I could hide myself from the world in there, I could just sit and watch or run or climb or do anything I wanted. It was my kingdom and I was angry when I happened to spot other people in there. Except for my brother of course. We pretended to be Grey Wardens or the Black Fox or my favourite Dalish hunters and warriors. We argued while building our own houses from broken logs or painting our faces with dirt and berries to imitate war paint, we even tried jousting like the Chevaliers with long sticks but I caught James in the face too hard and cut his face. I'd always felt so alive in those woods. And suddenly I desperately wanted to go back there, I wanted to be a kid with my little brother again even though deep down I knew that those times had passed and if I went back they wouldn't be the same. And the hurt of missing James hurt like real pain, like someone was squeezing my heart.

"I was going to see Merrill," Carver said snapping me back to the present, "Want to come?"

It took me a moment to shake the autumn leaves from my mind before I could truly think about Carver's offer. Did I really want to visit a blood mage, I wasn't sure. And visiting Merrill would mean I'd have to enter the Alienage. I didn't like Alienages as a general rule. Human's saw the ears and instantly dismissed me as an elf, which wasn't brilliant but in the Alienage it was different. They saw the ears then they saw my face. I ended up feeling like an even bigger freak because they knew I wasn't meant to be there. Most elves feel uncomfortable around elves who weren't purely blooded. It made them slightly nervous and I wasn't sure why, maybe they thought I'd go crying back to my human parent. It'd lost count of how many strange looks and 'half-breed' comments I've received.

"No thanks," I said to Carver.

"She's really not that bad," Carver tried.

"For someone who makes deals with demons," I countered. He looked like his was going to argue but sighed instead.

"Where's Hawke?" I asked. He looked slightly disappointed when I mentioned Hawke but neither of us commented on it.

"He's visiting Anders," Carver said. Maker was everyone busy paying social calls to dangerous Apostates. I half expected Dog to pop up to tell us that he was just heading off to visit Flemeth. Then I thought about how cool it would be if Dog did talk. He could be a side kick or something, like a king of Dogs with a cape and a pipe and everything. I just zoned out because Carver waved a hand in front of my face.

"Can you teach animals to speak?" I asked him.

"What has that got to do with anything?" he frowned.

"Nothing, never mind," I mumbled. I liked 'never mind' it was a good combination of words.

"Where's Anders' clinic?" I asked.

"In Dark town," he mumbled. I'd never been to Dark town before. The name made me think of Ghost towns. And I was curious as to what Anders healed at his clinic as I personally had never seen a nurse Abomination before. I wasn't sure if they made nurse uniforms in their size. I didn't really want to see Anders but I did how however want to ask him about his unusual case of possession.

In the end I decided to walk the docks. Past the crowds of people, away from ships and the shady dealers I found a spot. A narrow piece of the dock that seemed to have been forgotten tucked away in the corner. Safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't be disturbed I sat at the very end, letting my toes dip into the cool water and leaning my head a wooden post. I stared out to sea. It was a pleasant sensation, thinking of nothing but where the ships came from and where they were going and where they had been before. Sitting there with the sky and the sea just kissing it was easy to believe that the vast blue stretched out forever. I don't know how long I sat there and didn't really care but when the sky started to stretch with oranges I decided that I should go back home. I paused. Had I just considered Gamlen's house as home. But when I thought about it I realised that that was how I felt about it.


	7. The last job

The last job.

Me and Carver were standing behind a corner, hidden from sight. It'd been three weeks or so since I had been discovered in that crate. Carver fidgeted and I sat on an empty box while we waited for Hawke to drive the bandits towards us. It was taking forever.

"Do you miss Fereldan?" I asked watching the currently empty alleyway.

Carver shrugged, "sometimes."

I had come to consider the Hawkes as family and they seemed to feel likewise. I never asked about Bethany but sometimes Leandra would grow very quite and stay silent for the rest of the day. Hawke and Carver were like brothers now, Hawke the protective (sometimes suffocating so) heroic older brother, who was wrecked by guilt at his inability to protect everyone. Carver was like a little brother; while I loved Garrett I had more understanding with Carver because I could see his faults. We argued alot but we talked alot too and I felt protective of him. However the Hawkes were thankfully too different to my real family to feel as though they were replacing them.

"I miss the rain," I said tilting my head upwards slightly as if I suddenly expected the heavens to open.

"What? You miss the crappy Fereldan weather?" Carver said incredulously.

"Yeah," I smirked, "it never rains in Kirkwall. I like the rain."

"You're weird did I ever tell you that," he said poking his head out to check round the corner.

"And you're a meathead," I grinned, "did I ever tell _you _that." He kicked me playfully.

"Ow," I smiled.

It was in that moment that the raiders began to stumble round the corner, fleeing from Hake's destructive magic. Carver and me sprang into action slicing up the remaining bandits before they even had a chance to register our presence. Carver's combat had improved greatly since reading the books; he's even bought some of his own and attended one of my training sessions with Fenris. They had been infrequent, I visited when I could manage to and we didn't speak much when we were training. And that was one of the reasons I enjoyed them, I didn't feel as though I had to talk for the sake of speaking. I was content with the silence however, and when Fenris spoke it was to deliver instructions. He hadn't asked me any questions since I'd told him that I didn't want to talk about it but there were times when I wanted to speak but found I couldn't, like I felt nervous about saying the wrong thing. I'd also improved I was able to use my markings almost immediately and could hold it for much longer periods of time. That and I had managed to pass the same energy into my weapon. Sofia was wreathed in the same smoke as me and it burned as it cut. Fenris had not called on his part of the deal yet. It frustrated me. I didn't like being in someone's debt and I was curious to see what he wanted from me.

Hawke was shifting through the corpses' clothing while the rest of us kept an eye on the entrances, a second wave of attackers wouldn't be welcome while we were all scrambling around for goodies. Hawke stretched himself upward, shifting through his bounty with scared, careful fingers.

"One more job," he breathed, "just one more job and we're done."

The last 'job' in question happened to be my riskiest so far. Hawke had abandoned bandit patrols, halting thieves and capturing murders all together and had instead trawled high town for any high paying yet dangerous quests. It was a welcome change for me. Isabella was right; any quest was more interesting than bandits. Me and Isabella were playing cards in the shade of a monument, a large armoured noble, while Hawke bartered with the merchant. "You're a quick learner," she'd commented one night and now our games had become a competition of trying to catch one another at cheating.

Isabella grinned, shaking her head. She casually drew the ace that was now half hanging out of my sleeve.

"Tut, tut, tut," she said smirking, "you're scandalous."

"Well this is what your corruption leads to. I lay the blame solely at your feet," I grinned.

Hawke strode over to us, head bent and stroking his beard clear signs to indicate that he was deep in thought.

"I love it when you do that Hawke, you look so wise," Isabella called unleashing a seductive smile.

"I designed it just for your pleasure," Hawke said with a smile I'd never seen before on him except for in Isabella's company.

"Is that the only thing you designed for my pleasure?" she smirked darkly.

"Shameless," I muttered shaking my head.

"So, what is it we have to do?" Carver asked dislodging himself from the statue's pillar.

"All the workers at his mine have been massacred, we need to find out what killed them and kill it," Hawke said.

"Sounds suspicious to me," Anders mused.

"There's no way of knowing what we're up against so stay on your toes," Hawke said leading us away from the market.

"Hawke, where are we going?" I asked packing the beautifully illustrated deck of cards (which were a present from Leandra, after she found them in one of her old trunks) into my clothes.

"Saundermount," he replied.

"I was hoping you'd say that, can we stop off at the Dalish camp I need to get supplies."

"Mas sermmas Illen," I smiled allowing a hand to rifle fondly through his wares.

"You, back again," he growled but he was smiling, "I was hoping we had scared you off."

"Oh Illen you'd have to cut my legs off to keep me away from these," I said eyeing the ancient crafts hungrily.

"I haven't tried that yet," Illen said pretending to seriously think it through; well I hope he was pretending.

"As creepy and charming as that is I've really got to go stab something myself," I half smiled. An expression I found myself doing often, unaware that it had crept onto my face again. Illen leaned sideways to look past me at the group standing waiting for me at the centre of the camp. His eyes narrowed. I barely heard the muttered curses aimed at Merrill and, despite my adversity towards her blood mage-ous activities, I didn't want to.

"What will you trade for these?" I asked raising a pair of beautifully engraved gauntlets that had silverite twisted expertly into them.

Illen glanced up and studied me carefully.

"Your old gauntlets and those three lockets," he said.

"Deal," I grinned.

"When are you going to leave the Shem and live among us," all humour was gone just complete seriousness, "you know we'd welcome you here even if you are only..." 

Half elf.

That's what he wanted to say, that I was only half elf.

"I'll keep that in mind Illen but right now the 'Shem' is getting pretty impatient," I smiled.

"Till next time," Illen waved me away as he began to attend to another customer. I strolled back to Hawke, pulling the new gauntlets on and absently tightening the strings.

"All done?" Hawke asked nodding at my gauntlets appreciatively.

"Yeah," I said still concentrating on the strings.

"I'm impressed," Merrill smiled attempting to not let the glares and whispers get to her, "I didn't know you could speak Dalish."

"You never asked," I shrugged pulling the string tight. I couldn't look at her because somehow I felt guilty. Her clan liked me, a stranger and a half breed, better than her, who was not only Dalish but had also lived among them for years. But the worst part by far was that she had done this to herself.

Me, Fenris and Merrill were more sensitive to the heat change. The heat rose up through the rock underfoot and pricked the bottom of our bare feet. The further we climbed, the thicker the forest of boulders grew until we were practically scrambling at some points and the only vegetation was a few straggled grasses and roots crushed between the rocks.

"It smells of decay, only the foolish would travel here," Fenris mumbled to Hawke who continued to hike, grim faced and determined.

It did smell of decay, a cloying and thick sickly sweet scent that clung to my nose. That combined with the heat was making me cough. Did I mention that I hated the heat? And this was the worst kind, the heavy humid kind that sticks to your skin like a clammy blanket. This wasn't the old, proud mountains near the Dalish camp; these mountains were scorched, dead and mined hollow husks of the majestic peaks. There was something _wrong _up here. Something that just felt uneasy in the pit of my gut and made me eager to just run as far away as possible.

"You okay?" Carver asked to my left keeping his eyes on his feet.

"Yeah there's just something that feels... wrong up here, can't you feel it?" I replied trying to scan the discarded mining equipment.

"A bit, I feel jumpy," he said following my gaze.

"It's cursed," Fenris said making Carver jump. I'd heard his approach but Carver obviously didn't.

"Don't sneak around like that," Carver growled glaring at him.

"I wasn't 'sneaking'," Fenris said matching his glare with a classic I-am-a-broody-elf-mess-with-me-and-I'll-literally-rip-your-head-off look.

"It's cursed?" I asked eager to steer clear of a testosterone battle.

"Can't you feel it," he asked his dark green eyes penetrating the fog like two emeralds (a horrible simile I know). It was odd him asking me a question I had just asked Carver.

"Yes," I replied.

Hawke stopped at the entrance of the mine and glared into the darkness. The air was worse here like meat left to burn. I wondered what he could see, what he was thinking. What would it be like to be Hawke, to be ready to sacrifice and have unwavering confidence in your abilities? What would that be like? Hawke stepped into the dark without a moments hesitation, I followed.

It stunk worse in there like rotting meat left to cook. And it was dark, the few patches of light glowing murkily from holes in the rock.

"What do you think downs here?" I asked Hawke creeping up near the front.

"I'm not sure could be giant spiders, a Vaterell or maybe even dragons," he said holding his lighted staff aloft so everyone could see.

"Dragons? I've never fought dragons before."

"You sound slightly excited," Hawke gave me yet another confused glance.

I shrugged. I was slightly excited. I've never seen a dragon before, I bet they were beautiful. Nearly everything with wings was beautiful.

There were dragons because we came across Drakes in the next cavern. I read alot and had come across a large paragraph on Drakes. They were the male dragons, windless and with alot less fire power, they travelled with the dragons to fertilize and protect the eggs but never strayed far from the dragon as they needed protection themselves. In other words Drakes were great indicators of a dragon's presence. I however didn't get to fight any drakes because I was stuck at the back slaughtering any giant spider that came near Anders, an Abomination who was scared of _spiders._ Probably the only Abomination that was scared of spiders. And after my performance in the ruins I had somehow become the group's resident spider assassin and was called on when any offending arachnids were sighted. I only glimpsed the bodies afterwards before a squeamish Anders pushed me along.

"It's the legs," he muttered, "eight hairy legs."

He shivered and whispered, "They're creepy and unnatural."

"So are abominations but I don't flush them down plug holes," I whispered back, "even though if I did have a really big bath."

"Don't you just stab them on sight," Anders whispered back furiously.

"Sorry would you prefer me to take the twisted, possessed to visit my grandmother instead," I whispered equally as furiously. Surely he couldn't argue that Abominations were acceptable, even mages considered them dangerous.

"Why are you two whispering," Varric asked making me cringe in the broken silence.

Anders was sulking and so was I, we trudged along in silence. He zapped me _accidently _once in battle so I ensured that I directed the spider blood his way. A jet squirted him right in the face and I couldn't stop myself from laughing. After that I just grinned and hummed happily while Anders frowned so hard it had to be painful.

My hopes were confirmed when a terrified worker almost ran right into Hawke. He quickly warned him off and carried on his way.

Fortunately as we approached the dragon's lair we began to climb upwards and eventually stepped outside. I shielded the virgin sunlight from my eyes and inhaled deeply before realizing where I was and ending up choking on the foul air. We were perched on a ledge near the top of the mountain with a dragon. I just stood there awhile staring at it. It was beautiful. Each scale detailed intricately, everyone unique and sewn together in an armoured blanket that swathed the beast from head to toe. I wonder if you could create amour for people exactly like that. It was huge and covered with muscle, a sharp intelligent head and a long, powerful body that ended in a spiked whip like tail. It looked utterly deadly. But by far the most incredible part of the dragon were its wings that it stretched elegantly outwards in attack. Maker, I wish I could draw those wings. Wait in **attack.**

"Fen' Harel!" Hawke called snapping me out of my reverie, "Any ideas?" 

Not only was I spider assassin but I had also been promoted to a strategist along with Anders and Hawke himself.

"Erm," I said glancing back at the dragon.

"Okay," I said hurriedly turning back to Hawke, "Varric you think you can blind that thing?"

"Oh, Bianca's hurt," he said.

"Okay of course you can blind that, we need to split into groups mages and warriors then just rogues, we need the mages to try and petrify or freeze it or whatever, the warriors need to act as their shields and hit the dragon when they can, while me and Isabella make critical hits at the critical points which would usually be impossible on a really pissed off dragon," I explained dodging a fireball half way through.

"But on a pissed off frozen dragon..." Isabella said.

"...is much easier," I smiled.

"Okay I think we can manage that. Anders concentrate on frost spells; they should be effective and Merrill basic paralysis entropy and a rock prison if you can," Hawke spoke fast delivering instructions to the mages, "is everyone ready."

We all nodded or mumbled "ready," then sprung into action on Hawke's lead. It took Varric three shots to blind the dragon which roared in reply and tried to barbecue the few of scurrying around at its feet. Anders and Hawke were there immediately, ice erupting from their staffs and Fenris and Carver were there cutting up the frozen flesh. Me and Isabella didn't really have time to look we were too busy slipping in between the dragons writhing limbs. It was difficult to hit the right points, you had to cut the scales away in that certain area and drive the blade in deep. We only had four more to go, two on the neck, two on the head. We ran along its back, dodging the wings and skipping out the way of claws almost at the neck...at that moment the dragon defrosted. Its tail slicing across it's back and whipped me to the floor with a crack like thunder. I made an "unf" noise as I crashed to the floor and just managed to roll out of the way as a large talon clawed the ground near me. However Isabella wasn't as lucky as me. She was thrown forward over the neck to land heavily at the blind dragon's feet.

Oh crap.

Everyone was too busy avoiding flames, wings and claws to notice a now dazed Isabella in the dragons lap. Merrill attempted to create a rock prison but the dragon smashed it immediately and resumed the attack.

I spat the blood from my mouth and managed to yell, "Hawke! Isabella's..."

I didn't finish, Hawke heard me (which wasn't a small feat considering the noise and the fact that half my face felt numb) and was already gone sliding himself in front of the dragon. He spun his staff, electricity sparking and burning over its sharp face. The dragon recoiled but Hawke wasn't finished, he pounced the spear head of the staff raised and drove it through the beast's skull. The dragon's body sputtered and jarred before collapsing. I had already pulled myself to my feet and was making my way over to Hawke who was panting slightly from exertion.

"Thanks for the save," Isabella smirked, wiping dust from her rear.

"Don't mention it," Hawke replied still staring at the dragon.

I crouched down inspecting the dragons head, running my fingers across the scales, which were oddly smooth, and the bones beneath the muscles.

"You know what this means," I grinned standing up to face the group, fingers dripping with dragon blood.

"What?" Hawke asked suspiciously.

"We're dragon slayers," I said excitedly painting the substance across the bridge of Hawke's nose, then Carvers.

"I've never been a 'dragon slayer' before," Merrill smiled as I wiped the blood gently across her nose careful not to get it in anyone's eyes.

"Neither have I," I smiled back.

Isabella and Anders declined and I shrugged moving onto Varric who promised me that this would get us free drinks.

"Technically Hawke killed the dragon," Fenris said as I wiped the blood from cheek, to nose, to cheek.

"_With_ our help, he'd run away screaming in that little mage dress of his without us," I replied with a lop-sided smile.

"He still killed the dragon," he had that tiny little smile that just touched the corners of his full lips. I narrowed my eyes, still smirking. But he just watched me the little smile playing on the corner of his mouth. And suddenly I couldn't look away from his lips.

"You're cut," he said pointing at my cheek with a clawed gauntlet. It was the mark where the dragon's tail had caught me and the numbness was beginning to fade replaced with a stinging sensation. I could feel the blood well up and slide from the corner of the cut and slowly down my cheek to my lips. Fenris followed its movement with two green eyes that I now noticed were flecked and intertwined with rich lighter greens with the deep, dark ones, and like the drop of blood stopped at my lips.

"Fen' Harel," Varric called over, "the Hanged Man has missed you terribly."

Me and Fenris broke apart, moving backwards away from one another, my eyes instantly at the floor then searching for Varric. I felt strange, unsteady and too big for my skin. My brain felt odd, soft and confused still swimming with what had just happened. Nothing. That's what had happened, absolutely nothing, we had just looked. But my body was telling me something else, my heart was hammering, ringing in my ears and it and my gut hurt mildly with something, something that made me feel weak. I hated it. I loathed how weak and defenceless I had felt for that moment. I hadn't felt it before and never want to again. But...

"Yeah," I called to Varric, "I've missed her too."

The strange thing about the alcohol at the Hanged Man is that although it taste's like a fat man's bath water, you kind of begin to miss it. Thanks to Varric I was entertained in seconds and he was right being a dragon slayer did get you free drinks. There was already a small group surrounding him, filling our tankards just to keep him talking. Of course this time we were attacked by a whole army of dragons. I noticed that Fenris hadn't shown up and couldn't help wondering if it had something to do with earlier. I however ended up playing cards with Isabella on my team against Hawke and Merrill while Anders watched as Justice didn't approve of gambling. Hawke had explained Anders situation to me days ago and although I hadn't voiced my opinion to Hawke I was slightly disgusted. Why was nearly every mage a hypocrite? Anders argued that all mages were bad and that they could resist temptation while he sat there harbouring an alien spirit in his body himself.

Me and Isabella won of course, to the surprise of a completely stumped Hawke and Merrill. We drank to gaining the money, then we drank to the expedition then we just drank. But I couldn't help wondering if this would be the last time we'd all drink together. I was happy. In a foreign country and hiding from the Templars but I was happy. I had friends, I was healthy due to the exercise and Leandra's food and I was actually doing something instead of waiting for something to happen. I was as free as I had ever been. A wave of warmth flooded me as I looked at everyone at the table, people I genuinely cared about. It was an affectionate sensation and it took me back a second, the realization that I at that moment was actually completely content.

"What are you thinking about Fen' Harel?" Hawke asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"I know what I'm thinking about," Isabella smirked devilishly.

"Oh, what's that," Merrill asked her huge, shiny eyes looked innocently confused.

"I wouldn't want to offend your virgin ears," Isabella lowered her gaze, "unless you'd really like to know."

I leaned towards Merrill.

"It's undoubtedly something deliciously wicked that involves parts and positions of people's bodies that anyone but Isabella wouldn't even dream of never mind attempt and will rob you of your innocence in a heartbeat," I explained.

"Oh, in that case I'm not that interested but thank you," Merrill replied. I laughed and she smiled.

"Would you mind terribly if I called you something else, I just find it difficult to call you... that," she asked meekly.

"As long as it's not something very mean and hurtful Merrill," I turned to her.  
>"Oh, it isn't I swear. Can I call you Erin?" she waited expectantly for my answer.<p>

"That's a Dalish name," a smile was spreading across my face.

"Yes but you're half Dalish and you are like one of them, one of us," she said.

"I really like it. Thank you Merrill," I grinned.

Leandra scrubbed the dragon's blood from our faces when we came in. She scrubbed even harder when we found out what it was and after a rushed meal we retired to bed or in this case the sack of potatoes in the kitchen. I used to have nightmares and if I wasn't that exhausted when I did fall asleep I was positive I still would. So instead I listened to Leandra's nightmares, I let them lull me into dreams of the darkest black.

There was a great excitement the next morning. We dressed and left early with Hawke leaving a note for Leandra. He said something about not wanting her to say goodbye to another child. I wanted to ask what he meant by that but there didn't seem to be enough time.


	8. The expeditionwell begnning of it

The expedition, well beginning of it.

The sun was just breaking over the top of the buildings in High town when we arrived and the air had that distinct crispness that was only found in the early hours of the morning. I yawned stretching my arms and wishing for a huge tunic or blanket to crawl into. Carver wasn't helping as he listed some of Leandra's culinary triumphs. I wandered around the square, staring at the statues, fabrics and decorative plants. And gradually people began to file in, I watched them sitting on the base of the statue swinging my legs. Most of them were dwarfs and mercenaries but Hawke's companions were there too. Hawke noted everyone's presence.

"Where's Fen' Harel?" he asked

Carver pointed over to me and I waved.

"What about Aveline?"

"She said she needs to stay here with the guard," Carver said.

"Right so this is everybody?"

Carver nodded.

Hawke, Carver, me, Anders, Merrill, Fenris, Isabella and Varric were all present. Now Bartrand was pacing impatiently, snapping at anyone nearby as he prepared to address the expedition.

"Who brought the old woman," Bartrand stopped mid sentence, glaring over our shoulders which was impressive considering he was only at waist height.

We all turned and I was surprised to find an incredibly nervous Leandra fluttering near the expedition party.

"I'm sorry Ser Dwarf but I'd like to talk to my children for a moment," she asked. I wondered if I was included in that. Did she consider me one of her children or was I just a guest? So I stood there hesitating while Carver and Hawke strode over. Then Leandra waved me over gently with a smile and I couldn't help feeling touched.

"What's wrong," Hawke asked with thinly veiled concern.

"I was just wondering are you going to take Carver and Fen' Harel with you?" she asked glancing at me and Carver with worry before looking Hawke level in the eye. I'd never met Hawke's farther but at that moment it was clear where Hawke's bravery came from.

"It's up to them," Hawke said turning to Carver. Carver swelled slightly like he always did when Hawke let him make important decisions.

"Mother, I want to go, it's important to me," Carver said. He crossed his arms as if he was defiant on the subject but he still appeared to be asking Leandra with a pleading look.

Leandra turned to me next and although she was careful not to show it she wanted me to stay.

"I'm sorry but I really want to go. Maker I'd drive you insane if I stayed here while they all went," I smiled apologetically. I really didn't want to let Leandra down but I couldn't stand to miss the expedition.

"It's okay," Leandra smiled to both of us, "I understand."

Carver looked as guilty as me and we couldn't bring ourselves look her in the eye.

"I'll protect them mother, I promise," Hawke said. Leandra looked at him and something passed between, I felt that it was something to do with this Bethany but Leandra just smiled and fondly touched a hand to Hawke's cheek.

"I know you will," she said.

"You all finished there?" Bartrand called.

"Yes, I'm sorry to have taken so much of your time," Leandra called back to him.

"Goodbye," she smiled, hugging each of us tightly in turn.

"Bye," I called waving at her as we trekked out of High town then out of Kirkwall.

The higher we climbed the thicker the fog grew until there was a constant blanket of it swamping our feet and clouding our vision. I liked the fog, it like the rain made everything else seem different, more beautiful and mysterious somehow. We walked in the day and camped at night. I had fortunately packed my two books and produced both one night while Hawke's company including me and Varric sat at a separate fire to the rest of the expedition. I sat near the fire leaning my back against Carver's, reading while he sharpened his blade with a stone. The other's were sleeping and it was surprisingly quiet, there been the odd hoots and calls of nocturnal creatures, the quick scrapes of stone on the blade and the soft rustling of pages turning.

"Carver?" I asked eyes on the words.

"Yes," he said still sharpening. I could feel the muscles in his back move as he did and the steady beat of his heart against his ribcage, it threatened to lull me to sleep.

"Who's Bethany?"

The next silence was heavy and choking. Carver's shoulders stiffened then slumped.

"She was, is my sister. She died; an ogre killed her when we were escaping Lothering," he said.

I wanted to say something I really did. I wanted to say something like if you still remember her she's not dead. I wanted to say sorry or anything but everything seemed insufficient.

Instead I closed my book and spun so I was facing his back, with the firelight behind me.

"Carver...," I said and stopped unsure whether to go on or not, "...at least you're alive, at least you, Leandra and your brother lived."  
>I stopped, worried that I had over stepped my mark and said the wrong thing, it sounded ungrateful like I was telling him to grow up.<p>

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that," I mumbled, "I couldn't possibly know how you feel about your sister and I'm not going to pretend to. I just meant that there are people who care, and that I'm glad you all didn't die." 

I mumbled it in such a low voice that I was unsure if he had heard me or not but I didn't stay to find out. I just picked up my book and crawled into my sleeping bag. But I didn't sleep for hours I kept worrying that I had said the wrong thing.

That night I had nightmares. It was expected, I wasn't bored and restless enough to pace all night but I wasn't exhausted enough to collapse into oblivion.

I was in the warehouse where Hawke found me except Hawke wasn't here this time. And it was white; too white like someone had bleached the warehouse and coated it in a brilliant accusing glare. It was blinding and made my head throb and contract irritably. In the middle of the warehouse was a crate, it was huge, easily at eye level with me and painted bright white too, except there was something wrong with it. I jumped backwards as a thin, black liquid seeped from the bottom of the crate and pooled at my bare feet. Subconscious me flinched. It was feature that was common in my nightmares. The black liquid had become a sign, something that heralded the nightmare. It was there in _every_ one.

My hand reached out towards the bleached wood despite my very strong desire to recoil and shake myself awake. The wood peeled back, so easily all it took was a brush of my hand and it dissolved underneath my touch. There was a body in the crate, a body that sat cross legged smiling up at me. It wasn't a pleasant smile, it was half snarl, a predatory grin that stretched up the face and reminded me scarily of a wolf who'd just spotted a particularly innocent lamb. I found myself staring at myself, my blue eyes reflected in two black ones, like opal orbs. Terrifying and inhuman.

Finally I woke up and it isn't like I leaped awake like they do in the books, I just woke up. I groaned and held my head for a moment. It felt too heavy for just my neck. I sighed and stared out into the mist. The fire was just fading now and all I could see were the sleeping bundles of the others.

There is something wrong with me.

I feel like there's _always_ been something _wrong_ with me. Sometimes I think other people can feel it too, that's why they look away or can't hold my gaze or lean away from me. I can feel it most of the time but sometimes it gets stronger, like there's this _thing_ inside me that's cold and angry and inhuman. When I was younger, it was as though there were two of me, one grey (I am under no illusions that I'm a good person) and one completely dark. But now it was different, it was like the two were twined and I could feel it, especially when I fought that cold detached anger, it made me feel like a wolf. Was I a monster? An inhuman freak? I couldn't work it out.

"Erin?"

It was Merrill, I thought everyone was asleep. I sighed and pulled my gaze from the mist to stare at her. I felt too lethargic to deal with people today I just wanted to sit up here and stare out into the fog.

"Morning Merrill," I managed, looking away again. I was always momentarily confused when Merrill called me that, I had so many names now that I wasn't sure which one was my real one.

"Are you...are you okay?" she sounded tentative as she climbed out of her sleeping bag and crossed over towards me. She stood there hesitantly before sitting at my side and I froze for a moment unused to the close proximity of her. I had never been good with human contact except with my brother, maybe I wasn't used to it. Merrill sensed me stiffen and froze herself waiting for me to react but I didn't I just relaxed slowly, bit by bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said with a tired smile and ran my fingers through my fringe pushing it back.

"Good," Merrill said, she watched the fog shift and dance with me for a moment in the silence. It wasn't calm and without pretences like the one I shared with Fenris while training, it wasn't a silence I felt comfortable with. And Merrill kept fidgeting, kept looking around and seeking glances at my face. I wished that Isabella, Varric, Fenris or any of the Hawkes had found me instead. But at least it wasn't Anders.

"Erin?" Merrill said suddenly stopping to look at my face.

"Yes?"

"Are we... are we fine?"

I turned to her brow furrowed in confusion. I knew what she was asking. She was asking if we were friends or rivals or just mutual, the problem being I didn't entirely know the answer myself. I enjoyed her optimistic naivety and she was kind hearted despite what her clan thought. She was so fragile, why did she seem so desperate to destroy herself. And although she was a blood mage, I couldn't help but like her. It didn't stop the fact that her selfishness and refusal to listen to anyone was going to get people killed. Why was she so desperate to be the martyr? Why would she want to throw her life away like that? And it wasn't just herself that she was going to get hurt; blood magic didn't work that way. You can't tell people anything though, they have to find out themselves and that was why the clan had been eager to get rid of her. She was a ticking time bomb and they didn't want to be around when she went off.

Merrill was still looking at me for an answer, her eyes watching every flicker on my face. Every time I looked at her there was a muddle of emotions, not the unknown ones that confused me and made me feel unguarded when I was with Fenris but conflicting ones. I hated her yet liked her at the same time. I couldn't stand her but felt protective simultaneously.

"Merrill, I like you but I don't think we could ever be friends while you're a blood mage," I must have sounded sharp because Merrill looked hurt for a moment. She hadn't expected that. I got up to leave but Merrill's hand snaked out and grabbed mine, pulling me back down with a sharp yank.

"You can't say that and just leave," she whispered furiously her brows furrowed but her eyes teary.

"What more do you want me to say," I growled quietly, eyes narrowed back at hers, and leaning closer to make sure she knew that I wasn't going to be intimidated by her. She had asked me a question and I had told her the truth, I didn't like the way she tried to make it seem that I had been running away.

"Just because I'm a blood mage! That just gets rid of any positive parts of me, because of what I am," she was getting louder, nowhere near shouting but no longer whispering.

"Because of **who** you are not what you are," I almost erupted; I was struggling with my temper, trying to swallow my anger, "you weren't born this way. You made that choice, knowing **full** well what you were doing!"

The last part I almost shouted and I could feel people waking. So I breathed deeply, trying to gain control again. Each breath flooding me like a wave trying to extinguish the rage I was wrestling with. I sighed.

"But I'm not here in lecture you and you're not willing to listen anyway," I whispered, "I don't want to be your rival Merrill but I don't think I can be your friend."

I rose to get up again and realized that Merrill was still holding my hand. She slides it out of my hand, blushing, making both of us feel incredibly embarrassed (well definitely me).

After Merrill, I was feeling slightly deflated. I swear the Maker was toying with me because as the rocks became mountainsides naturally spiders appeared and I spent the whole day stuck with Anders because my mere presence seemed to keep them at bay. Therefore guarding Anders from imaginary spiders began the second argument with a mage that day.

I quickly realized that Anders liked to talk about the mage's plight _alot. _First he jabbered on to Varric about it while he patiently pretended to be listening and skilfully managed to change subject on many occasions but Anders wouldn't be swayed for long.

"Oh Daisy, that's a very interesting, er, rock you have there," Varric said darting up to meet Merrill, surprisingly fast for a dwarf, and leaving me at the mercy of a fanatical Anders.

"Oh maker," I groaned as Anders zeroed in on me with his preach vision. I could almost see the 'target acquired' sign pop up behind his eyes.

"Fen' Harel," he said with a charming smile slipping into step beside me, "have I ever told you about the mages plight."  
>"No," I grumbled, "but I'm sure you're going to."<p>

Anders seemed unfazed.

"We have to obey, our every movement, our every action and thought is watched and we're treated like monsters. We have a choice to bow to their rules and lead a hollow controlled life or spend our lives on the run, never stopping."

"I'm sure you understand the injustice these people suffer simply for being born a mage, simply for existing. You've seen the Templars form of _justice_ firsthand," he scoffed and continued passionate rant.  
>I was about to open my mouth to argue but I thought that might make him talk more and that was something I hoped to avoid. However Anders took my silence for something else.<p>

"I knew you'd understand," he beamed, "I knew you'd support us."

"I don't support the mages plight," I said drily.

Anders stopped and double took, his mouth forming a comical O.

I carried on walking.

"Why?" he demanded, running around to stand in front of me.

I sighed; I was tired of questions today. I kept my eyes down and my legs striding forward.

"How can you when you've seen Templar brutality yourself," he fumed.

My head snapped up and I narrowed my eyes at him until they became nothing but two cruel slits in my face. How dare he? He had no idea!

"I never said I agreed with the Templars either," I said, trying for what seemed the ninth time that day to keep my temper. I swear if Hawke started an argument next I'd explode.

"I don't understand," Anders said. Of course he didn't. I didn't expect him to.

I wanted to explain it to him but I didn't think I could while keeping my emotions in check. I needn't have worried, Anders trudged past me and we didn't speak the rest of the day.

I was tired when we made camp. I'd managed to upset both Anders and Merrill, and I was unsure where I stood with Carver after last night but at least we were almost in the tunnels now. This was the first time we'd made camp in two and half days and everyone was exhausted. Isabella and Varric had managed to stay alert thanks to a supply carefully hidden hipflasks and had offered me some but I refused after reminding myself that if I was pissed I'd likely end up falling asleep anyway. Isabella had no such trouble and instead offered me company telling me all about Antiva and Rivain, which meant that I learned alot about Antivian men. The crows fascinated me and I couldn't seem to get enough information about them. In return I told Isabella all about Mercia, which wasn't much and the one time I had visited Denerim.

"So I went in because I was curious as to what exactly they sold with a name like 'The Black Pearl' while my friend was in the jewellers," I explained.

"With no idea, it was a brothel," Isabella smirked stretching her arms above her head.

"No, and suddenly some woman popped up and asked if I wanted a man, woman or a surprise. And I was wondering what the hell she was going on about so I just said surprise me and was pushed into this room with what could only be described as Varric and Carver's lovechild with Merrill's voice, and I was a couple of coins lighter," I frowned.

Isabella laughed, "So you were left to the mercy of this beast, what **did** you do?"

"I made a sandwich..."

"Oh?" She smirked and raised an eyebrow, "you're so filthy."

"A cheese sandwich," I corrected myself, "asked him if he wanted any and sat eating in silence until the woman came."

"Just an average day in the brothel," Isabella sighed.

"Have you ever visited one intentionally?" she asked.

"No," I said, "I think I might have been mentally scarred after that."

"But you have had sex?" Isabella enquired. I liked that about Isabella she was honest about herself; everything was simple and straight forward. If you wanted something, go get it.

"Yes," I said bluntly even though it had been only twice with the same boy when I was younger.

"I'd thought so," she smiled.

It had been at that point that Hawke declared that we were making camp right now. Bartrand had whined and stomped his little feet but one look from Hawke and he was silenced. We set up camp quickly, everyone eager to get to sleep. I volunteered to keep watch since I wasn't eager to have another nightmare. Carver asked too but I said that he should sleep after a quick glance at the huge bags under his eyes. Anders and Hawke were drained after having to supply light for hours on end so it wasn't expected from them and to be honest I didn't really want company. It turned out that there was no need. Bartrand had already organised patrols and after a quick word with Varric he 'decided' that he didn't need our help.

Carver sat next to me during dinner and nicked two of my sausages as sign that everything was fine between us, as Carver had never been one for words. I smiled at him and he grinned back.

"Are you harvesting sausage for your meat head?" I asked innocently.

"Don't you eat babies or something anyway?" he smiled.

"I bet you're there every night adding sausage after sausage until it's too late and you crush us all with your huge meathead," I said with a lop sided smile.

"I'd hate to be in your brain Fen' Harel I bet it's scarier than any Dark spawn horde," he said shaking his head.

"You don't want to know," I muttered. Relief was washing over me, thankful that me and Carver were still friends.

That night I couldn't sleep despite the urge to. The nightmare was fresh in my brain and I couldn't stop this irrational thought that as soon as I closed my eyes the walls of the cave would tighten around me. I felt trapped down here where I couldn't see the sky or feel the wind and everything was hard rock (it sounds corny I know but it was the truth). It felt so dead down here, so final, absolute and unchanging that it hurt my brain.

Instead I found myself staring up at the ceiling with my arms folded under my head, imagining a sky. The others were clustered near the fire and I could hear the steady thrum of sleeping breaths. I stayed like that for awhile until I couldn't take it anymore and decided that if I was awake, I might as well go somewhere else. I crept away from the fireplace and out of the cave mouth we had made camp in finally breathing in the night air. Maker, it felt good to be outside again. I leaned against the rock and was suddenly struck by a thought.

I could run.

I could run away right now.

I wasn't used to this, to staying somewhere, playing family, except that was the difference I wasn't playing anymore. And surprisingly I didn't feel trapped as I usually did in these situations. I didn't want to leave.

I don't know if it was the humidity but at that moment it began to rain for the first time in what felt like years. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back against the rock I was leaning against. I let the cool water fall and slide from my face, it felt so wonderful like it washing everything away, washing me away.

"Couldn't sleep too?"

I spun almost ready to pounce but it was just Fenris. He too was leaning against the rocks but further down and out of sight. Suddenly I had the paranoid notion that Fenris could tell what I had been thinking, that he knew that I had debated just running away into the night.

"Seems that way," I sighed running a hand through my now slightly wet fringe.

"It does," Fenris said absently staring out at something I couldn't see.

It was a peaceful image of him despite the amour. His hair brilliant silver in the half light, ruffled softly from turning in his sleep, his eyebrows no longer pulled tightly together but relaxed for once leaving his face strangely unlocked and tranquil. His eyes were different, the green dancing with constant contest, I could see the light green clearly now. The flecks were fresh and specked with the deep bottle green almost hiding in them. The white of his Lyrium markings were almost burning silver and I had the sudden strange notion that they would slip off his skin with the rain. I wanted to find them all. I suddenly found it very hard to look away.

"I heard you talking to Anders," he spoke his deep voice rumbling in the near quiet.

"Yes, it wasn't a pleasant conversation," I muttered.

"Is it ever with Anders," he sounded tired, tired of mages and magic. I smiled.

"I didn't realize you were eavesdropping," I said.

"I wasn't eavesdropping," he snapped, clearly hit a nerve, "I was near the back and you two weren't exactly whispering."

I grinned. I liked winding Fenris up and he knew it; it was a favourite hobby of mine.

"You have a very evil grin Fen' Harel," Fenris said with that strange smile that I couldn't help looking at, to my great annoyance.

"And you have a very wolfish smirk," I replied.

We stood in silence for a moment, I could hear his breath, and see is chest move out of the corner of my eye and became painfully aware of my own breath, my own body.

"Why do you hate mages?" Fenris asked careful not to look at me.

I paused.

"Why do you?" I countered.

He sighed and pushed himself from the wall, walking towards me but didn't answer my question instead inserting himself against the rocks. He wasn't that close to me, I could stretch out my arm to just reach his face, but it felt as though he were closer.

"It feels strange working with them now," I mused.

"I've always worked with them," he said bitterly, "but not by choice."

I smirked, waiting for the eternally wounded elf routine.

"But I find myself trusting Hawke," He muttered. I was surprised, he'd caught me unaware something I found him doing more and more so (to my great annoyance). I turned to face him. His expression was strangely thoughtful and sincere.

"That's oddly pleasant for you Fenris, you'll be skipping around in flowery dresses with Merrill next," I said.

"I'd rather die," he frowned and I laughed which made him frown more so.

Hawke watched Fen' Harel and Fenris from the mouth of the cave. He'd awoken to begin his patrol but instead had found both Fenris' and Fen' Harel's sleeping bags empty. They looked different but Hawke couldn't quite place his finger on why. Then it struck him, they both seemed less guarded suddenly. It was difficult talking to both of them; it seemed that the more you tried the more they sunk into themselves. On the occasions when he had asked either about their pasts Fen' Harel had fallen quiet then laughed it off and Fenris had replied with anger and suspicion. Hawke sighed, he was unsure about the future. Both of them despised mages and weren't shy about it yet they continued to follow him. He knew it wouldn't last forever; one day... he didn't want to think about it. It felt as though he could feel a slight pull on him already both forces moving in different directions, leading where he was unsure. Yet it wasn't the confrontation that Hawke dreaded; it was the certain fact that he would lose people one way or another. Hawke felt that familiar weight settle between his shoulders.


	9. In the deep roads

In the deep roads.

We'd been trudging through the passage way for days and I felt sick to death of bloody stone. I swear to the Maker, the passage ways were getting smaller and we were only a week in. For the first time I began to seriously doubt if I would be able to make the entire journey without being crippled by claustrophobia. Bartrand was cursing again up ahead but this time more loudly than before. In fact the pitch of 'nug-humper' was the only indication to his mood. I watched as he bitch slapped one of his dwarves and Hawke went up to see what the problem was.

Merrill, who I believed had forgiven me because she kept smiling shyly and trying to start non-mage, related conversation, sidled up near me.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

I shrugged, "maybe he commented on the size of his butt, or slept with boyfriend or something."

"Well that wasn't very nice of him, he'd deserve a slap if he had," she said eternally oblivious.

I smirked.

"Indeed," I agreed.

"Okay, we've got to go find another way in, the tunnels collapsed," Hawke sighed. He looked tired, no exhausted. Mainly because he kept insisting on taking the patrols, seriously the unrelenting goodness of Hawke could become tiring I swear I'd dart him if he continued.

There was a collective groan as we began to slink off down another bloody tunnel.

"Dark spawn!" Anders shouted half an hour in.

However it wasn't Anders' shout that alerted me to their presence but the fact that there was

a group of dark spawn standing in the cavern.

I rolled my eyes visibly at Anders who decided to ignore me.

Fighting dark spawn was a different experience altogether. You didn't feel that horrible empty feeling afterwards; it was guiltless like stabbing a wooden toy. The Dark spawn were the original monster, killing them felt like a public service. But they proved more of a challenge. You had to constantly be aware of their tainted blood which meant I found it harder to settle into automatic warrior mode. However the Dark spawn gave me an ideal opportunity to rehearse the new skills I'd acquired from training with Fenris. Sofia flowed in a wide arc, black flame curling viciously from the jagged blade easily slicing and burning through the blind corpse like creatures. I spun whipping Sofia back before swinging it forcefully back into the group. I had to skip out the way of the spray of tainted blood. It made a spider's web of scattered black across my pale skin regardless and with an irritated groan I wiped it off onto my clothes.

It continued in this way for pretty much an hour with Dark spawn popping up everywhere. Just when I thought we'd finished with one group another would spring from behind another pissing rock. I was beginning to understand Anders' reluctance to revisit the Deep Roads. Hawke however trudged on with Merrill skipping merrily at his side and me and Carver sulking behind. Fenris and Anders were having yet another slagging match while Isabella and Varric were testing how many euphuisms they could fit in a shopping list. Alot, I discovered with 'a handful of wood' being a favourite. That's when I started wondering how I'd ended up here. If six year old me were walking beside me would we recognise each other, would I know myself? Images of when I used to live back in Mercia flooded into my head, hazy memories of sun drenched afternoons with friends, happy and melancholy mixing together until it was just a collage of bitter-sweetness.

"Have you ever ridden a Halla, Erin?"

"Huh?" My head snapped back down to reality.

Merrill was staring at with inquisitive child like eyes.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"Have you ever ridden a Halla?"

"Unfortunately not but I've always wanted to though."

That just opened the flood gate and Merrill began to chatter away about Dalish life only pausing when a group of Dark spawn would rear their ugly heads. I was content to listen, the Dalish fascinated me and it was better than her asking me uncomfortable questions.

"You should come over to my house in the Alienage sometime, I've got thousands of books on Dalish history," she jabbered then blushed feverishly, "I, I mean if you want to, you don't have to go, I just thought that maybe, you would you know... like to look at my books but you can say no if you want."

"Okay," I replied suitably confused, "I'll stop by if I can."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank y..." she began but didn't finish because at that moment we were all flung through the air like rag doll during a child's tantrum. There was a split second when I felt completely confused as my body barely began to register what was happening before I was thrown to the floor.

"Ow," I groaned removing Bianca from underneath me and passing her back to Varric who looked overcome with worry... for his weapon.

"Bianca," he cradled it but I didn't have enough time to comment on Varric's unhealthy relationship with the crossbow because there was a dragon bearing down on us. It was magnificent, stretching its leathery wings to full height and snarling its reptile head at us in a grand display of primitive rage. That was before Hawk fire balled it smack in the face.

"Any strategy?" I called out.

"Yeah, stab it till it dies," Isabella smirked before sinking her blades into the nearest Dragonling.

"Fair enough," Varric shrugged, loading Bianca.

I ran leaning forwards slightly as I gained speed and passing the humming energy from my Lyrium markings to Sofia, who was now in spear form. Tucking the chain of the spear handle against my stomach I leapt upwards, using the Dragon's leg as a lift. Then changing momentum mid air I pulled the spear out sending it carving through the air towards the dragon's back. With my full weight behind it, Sofia's blade sliced deep into the creature's flesh and I had to yank it out roughly before retreating. I needed to be quick, speed was vital. I danced out of the way of one jet of flame only to be bitten by a Dragonling who was lurking behind me. It's sharp, needle teeth spiking through my upper arm I turned and decapitated it fluidly with Sofia. Maker, that stung. Merrill and Varric were already out and Carver looked tired but the rest were battling away with vigour safe in the knowledge that injuries sustained would be healed afterwards unless of course we all died.

"Little shit," I breathed kicking the corpse aside before swinging my Sofia into the Dragon's side, which began to bleed heavily. I swung Sofia in wide circles gaining speed and a steady rhythm as it cut deeper and deeper into the Dragon's side. The creature's head swung angrily towards me, fixing my eyes with its own primeval ones. The Dragon's tale began to coil before whip towards me with alarming speed. I leaped backwards, putting more than enough distance between me and it, and coming to rest exactly in a jet of waiting flame.

A scream tore from my throat as I could literally feel my skin blister and shrink backwards away from the blast of impossible heat. Heat that left nothing but blank white in my head for a moment. It ended as quickly as it came, leaving me sensitive and raw. My body fell, charred on the left side, the contact with the floor bringing another sharp bolt of pain that was more welcome that the budding, aching one from the burn. Unable to fight I had to watch numbly as the others dispatched the dragon, even though Hawke was also injured and it was finally Anders and Isabella that brought it down. He just breathed heavily for a moment before gulping down a flask of Lyrium and rushing to heal Hawke who in turn began help healing everyone else. I was the second person Hawke healed after Merrill who'd been bleeding quite heavily. I waited for that familiar tingling sensation as Hawke's magic crept through me, knitting me back together piece by piece as it did so. It was quite uncomfortable at first but the after effect was beautiful. For half an hour afterwards you're body feels brilliant, fresh and hyper sensitive. Hawke's brow furrowed as he concentrated and I tried not to laugh at the pained expression on his face.

"Sorry," I said afterwards.

"It wasn't your fault; you couldn't have expected that, "he smiled. Good old Hawke who probably forgive you for mugging him. It was hard to not get slightly irritated at how noble he was but it was near enough impossible to stay mad at him. I think if Hawke went on a killing spree we'd probably forgive him.

"Are you okay?" he asked checking me over with a concerned eye.

"It'll take more than a roasting to kill me off Hawke," I grinned. He smiled back before realising that Anders had healed everyone else and going over to awkwardly congratulate Isabella. It was too sweet for words; he was like some school boy with a crush.

Seeing as we'd discovered a second passageway we returned with the information to Bartrand, who just gave a nod of thanks and told everyone to move on. I almost kicked his little dwarf head from his shoulders, all that work and not even a thank you.


	10. Primeval thaigs aren't ideal for bonding

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Primeval Thaigs aren't ideal for family bonding. 

Varric whistled, the noise carrying and echoing through the vast chasms of the Primeval Thaig. I didn't share his enthusiasm; it was too hollow, too empty and too dead. The Thaig gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach and sent an army of goose bumps swimming on my skin. Hawke beamed at the view, it meant something to him I suppose a sign that he had finally done it.

We camped there for the night but I hardly slept. I could still see the red veins that crawled through and welded with the rock under my closed eye lids. It was hard to sleep anyway with nightmares and the constant whirring of my brain giving me no rest and no sleep. I was thinking about Black water. It was a small village smaller than Lothering but richer, it used to have good soil and shambolic little houses clinging desperately to the hill side, with a Chantry standing superiorly at its centre. It doesn't anymore.

When I first started the enforced Templar training I kept thinking over and over again, "what is it that's so bad that the Templars had broken all their vows, what was it that was so bad that they needed to create me at all?" I had seen a few mages by then, the boy that Ser Degan had killed being one, and had already decided that they were the innocent victims in this, that they were murdered or imprisoned purely because of what they were. I had only seen mages heal, study books or scurry away from the Templars. I'd definitely not seen anything like Blackwater, it was my first glimpse of a mages fury but it wouldn't be my last.

Blackwater was on fire when I saw it and its villagers, every last one of them, were strung up in a row like pigs after slaughter. I couldn't see their faces in the dark but I could smell the blood so strongly that it felt as though the metallic stench was striping the lining of my nose. There was a doll, a little straw doll with a rag dress and charcoal smile, right in the centre of the largest pool of blood. I'd left it there among the other bodies. I didn't know the mage; I didn't know why he'd done it, I just knew that he'd changed me. After that night I went back to the Templars without resistance and dreamt of sixty people hanging above a pool of blood. I stopped fighting the Templars and started fighting myself until I was numb, until I couldn't feel anything anymore.

That was what shocked me the most at my present situation. I was now running around with not only three mages but one abomination and one blood mage. It somehow felt as though I was betraying the people of Blackwater and every other victim but I couldn't stop myself. I felt alive again and maybe I was selfish to stay but I couldn't leave now if I wanted to.

Hawke woke me in the morning. I hadn't realized that I'd drifted off and my neck was sore. He decided that we might as well explore the Thaig. The party rising, grouchy and even more irritable with the prospect of exploring more underground caverns looming over us, followed Hawke regardless just occasionally grumbling or shooting the odd death stare in an oblivious Hawke's direction. He promised to help a distraught dwarf search or his son or something, I wasn't really paying attention. It wasn't long before the Dark spawn made reappearance. I grumbled through bloodly swipes and dodges, the black mood steadily growing with each damn hour I spent underground chopping up pissing Dark spawn. Maker if the taint didn't kill off the Wardens they'd probably commit suicide anyway.

My mood, however improved enormously when we came across what could be only described as the creepiest looking dwarf I have ever seen, and Dwarfs aren't known for their success in beauty pageants to begin with. His child like face, which added to the creepiness due to the dwarf body, grinned maniacally up at us. It was easily a face you could envision watching you from the foot of the bed with a knife. It took me a moment to work out what he was so happy about. Beyond the tiny stalker an ogre was frozen mid charge, it's blotted, discoloured tongue just inches from the dwarfs head. I felt myself grin. Very impressive. Despite giving me goose bumps the dwarf had caught my curiosity.

"Enchantment," it grinned lazily.

Hawke instantly bent down to question the dwarf and direct to back to the camp with helpful smile. I chuckled to myself.

After battling through a third wave of Dark spawn and finding nothing of value... again Hawke caught a moment to rest. I sighed heavily leaning against the wall near him.

"Maybe we should go back to the camp, Hawke, we haven't found a glimmer of anything and we've been fighting these things off for hours now," I suggested.

"I agree," Fenris said, skulking up from nowhere and making me jump.

"This place is making me..." he eyed the cavern suspiciously, "...nervous."

I decided not to point out the obvious by saying that everything made Fenris nervous and instead nodded vigorously.

"Look at everyone Hawke, we've been down here for weeks we don't need to be tramping around for no reason," I pointed at Merrill and Anders who were hungrily gulping down a Lyrium potion each, but decided to not draw attention to the rest of the group who were lounging around with bored faces. Fortunately Fenris decided to move in a position that better blocked them from Hawke's view. Hawke watched the mages with weary concern.

"Just one more chamber," he said drawing himself to his feet and leading the group on through another murky tunnel in a succession of murky tunnels.

Fenris sidled up next to me at the back, careful not to make contact after some mutual unspoken agreement. Ever since that tense moment atop Sundermount, something had changed and I couldn't change it back. Something like the taint was crawling through me, slowly but powerfully and Fenris was tied to it. But no matter how hard I tried to figure it out, I had no idea what it was.

"Our plan seems to have failed," he said manoeuvring his way around a collection of jagged rocks.

"Indeed," I grumbled, "we should have taken his magic stick."

"It's a staff!" Hawke called.

"Accursed Stick of death," I replied attempting my very best Fenris voice, which earned me a scowl from the elf in question and only added to my amusement.

"You do enjoy taunting me," he grumbled, "it's quite sadistic."

"This coming from the man who storms about the place punching holes through everything," I replied with a lopsided smile.

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. I frowned and was about to ask him what he was laughing at, I got the distinct impression that it was me, when Anders piped up.

"What are you two conspiring about back there," he narrowed his eyes.

"The downfall of mages," I said nonchantly.

"And you being a ring leader we decided to kill you in your sleep," Fenris studied Anders with frown as if he were a particularly unpleasant insect. Varric audibly sighed.

"Varric, I think we've found something" Hawke called.

A/N:

Sorry about the wait for the new chapters. I can only update at weekends to my eternal shame T-T. And last weekend I couldn't get the pissing thing to work. This is the last chapter in the deep roads I promise but I was trying to do some group bonding and thought that all of them stuck in a big ass hole together would be a perfect opportunity, despite the fact that she fell out with three people and only made up with one .. She lacks social skills. At least she doesn't threaten to kill people in their sleep =3 Thanks for reading


	11. 3 weeks later

3 weeks later.

3 weeks later.

Leandra collapsed. There was no other apt word for it. She fell apart. I cringed, frozen with uncertainty. Hawke began to comfort her, whispering soft words of support in her ear; it was most he had spoken in weeks ever since... Carver. Something pulled at me sharply but with a malicious patience that made it even more unbearable. We'd returned from the deep roads rich but Carver had left with a different group of companions. We'd also walked home in silence with someone offering a brief consoling word. Which Hawke answered with a tired smile before drowning us in silence again until I felt I would explode.

I slipped from the Hawke household, feeling even more crippled by uselessness in these situations. Just as useless as I had been when Carver was wounded, as useless as when he had been infected and as pissing useless as I had been when he was carted of to join the Grey Wardens. I walked. Not really sure where I was going but not really caring. There were too many emotions cooking away inside me to think properly.

I knocked briskly, my hand reaching out as if controlled by some hidden puppeteer.

Fenris opened the door, his usual stoic mask broken in surprise and confusion.

"I heard you had free wine," I said, barely registering how strange my voice sounded.

"The best," he said opening the door wider for my entry. No questions asked

He drank with me at first. He didn't ask if I was okay maybe he got the idea that I didn't want to be asked. He just studied me awhile, I was watching the fireplace. The drink was making everything looser, my body, my brain and the box where I'd been locking everything in. I couldn't let it all rush out; I was scared I'd drown in the flood especially in front of Fenris.

"Fenris," I said clearing my throat, eyes still on the flame, "I think I'd like to train for awhile, if you wouldn't mind."

"No not all," he said and reaching over with one slender branded arm he lightly handed me his long sword, "this may be better."

I nodded wrapping my fingers around the handle, swinging the huge blade across my shoulders I left Sofia against the fireplace.

Fenris' POV: 

She left, stalking off into the many winding passages of Darius' mansion. I sat there watching her go because I didn't know what else to do, because she confused me, because she confused everything. With a sigh I gulped the last of the wine, trying to bite back bitter memories that were attached to it. Glancing across I noticed that Fen' Harel had left the bottle propped up in the chair as a reminder of her presence in the room. Unsure what to do but filled with the need to do something I stood.

Indecision was playing with me again. It had been all evening, ever since she'd turned up at the door. Part of me had wanted her to and hadn't been surprised by her appearance. It was a part I was trying to suffocate. I'd never seen her look like that when she wasn't fighting, so numb and hollow as if I could almost seen through her. It was a look I'd been familiar with after being haunted by bad dreams, I just wondered what ghosts were plaguing Fen' Harel. She'd been as silent as Hawke on the journey home but while Hawke's pain was evident, laid out like an open wound, Fen' Harel seemed smothered, hidden from us replaced with the smiles and carefree attitude that belonged to her. But that moment at the door I had almost recognized something, for a moment.

I made up my mind. Striding down the corridor I made my way through the maze to the room used for training. I raised my hand to knock on the splintered wood but paused when I heard wood snap and splint open with a pitiful groan. Instead I edged the door open concealed from her view. I doubt she would have seen me anyway she was far too absorbed in her swordplay. Her hair had now grown to just rest beneath her collar bones partially and stroked her cheek as it moved with her. I watched the curves of her body bend with her sword as she finally decapitated the dummy. Fen' Harel panted, fixing the dummy with one visible pale blue eye. She turned suddenly and I abruptly sunk further into the shadows, the candle light from the room only illuminating one side of my face.

Fen' Harel paused, eyes narrowing on a crate near the now destroyed dummy. She drew her foot back before lightly placing it back on the crate, testing the wood underfoot. The wood resisted and Fen' Harel pressed harder, then harder until eventually the wood gave away. And it was sudden as though something other than the wood had snapped. Fen' Harel's foot was pounding the wood relentlessly. I watched her sudden heated outburst, as she ground her foot into the wood shouting obscenities, lost to rage. She flung the sword aside and began to cry.

I paused.

There was a knock at the door. I left. Guilt was swamping me, I felt as though I'd stolen from Fen' Harel, stolen a moment when she thought she was by herself and had went to be alone. Inwardly kicking myself I opened the door to find a sultry looking Isabella smirking up at me.

"Is Fen' Harel here?" she asked. Yet another surprise.

"Why?"

"Hawke said she just left when they got back to Gamlen's shack, he asked me to look while he was taking care of his mother," she answered searching every visible area of my house for any trace of Fen' Harel's presence.

"Yes she's here, she's...training."

"Oh," she winked, "training. Training for what?"

"Killing bandits I'd presume considering she seems to spend half of her time doing so," I replied frowning at Isabella.

"Oh," she winked," killing bandits."

"Stop that it's irritating," I snapped.

"You seem riled up, we're you and Fen' Harel getting steamy while training. You just stopped, filled with the rush of battle and locked eyes. That's when you both started to notice the warm sweat dripping down across each other's bare skin and..."

"I said stop it," I glared, trying to shake the sudden images that were flooding my brain. Images of Fen' Harel and me, of bodies and tongues and... I mentally shook myself.

"Andraste, Varric was right these things do write themselves," Isabella smirked to herself, lost in similar thoughts of her own, "I should tell him about this, maybe he could put it in one of his books."

"Leave now," I snarled.

"Yes in good time. Is she staying over, Hawke needs to know where she is if I'm not bringing her back."

"I don't care, that's up to her."

"You know, I knew she'd be here that's why I checked here first," she smiled devilishly.

"Goodbye Isabella."

I closed the door with a sigh of relief.

Fen' Harel's POV: 

Feeling suitably drained. I stood up among the splintered wood. The newly cut wounds on my leg began to sting before eventually fading into a dull ache. Why was I so stupid and childish? Still acting like a pissing over emotional nine year old. I'd cried because it hurt, because I missed Carver and because one new wound managed to remind me of all the old ones.

"Fen' Harel?"

I turned to find Fenris standing awkwardly in the doorway. Feeling even more stupid and childish in his company I began to wipe at my eyes in an attempt to hide the tears that had left me feeling so hollow and drained. It was then that I noticed the broken pieces of wood scattered at my feet and was further embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," for losing it in your house, "for my sudden intense hatred of crates," I managed picking myself up off the floor and giving a lopsided smile.

Fenris' lips curled upwards as he smirked in return, "indeed. Should I warn the other crates?"

I laughed "I was relying on the element of surprise," I said.

Fenris laughed in return, that small breathy one that seemed to escape from his lungs. I smiled to myself; it was such a strange little laugh that I couldn't help it.

"Isabella called," he said studying me intently like I might fall apart again, "she wanted to know if you were going back to Hawke's tonight."

Leandra and Hawke. I wanted to go back, to comfort them or _something_ but wouldn't because I knew that I couldn't. I suddenly felt selfish for just leaving them and storming off up here. Here, of all places. Why Fenris' mansion? Once again I found myself questioning myself about something related to Fenris. The answer was because I didn't know where else to go, not that I didn't have the options just that this seemed to be the only right one. The person in question meanwhile was waiting impatiently by the door.

"Er," I looked down at my scratched leg, "can I use your bathroom first?"

Fenris POV:

She'd been up in the bathroom for an hour, carrying shampoo, soap and bandages in before locking me out. I meanwhile had searched the mansion for something to eat. I hadn't found anything yet. I bought my food while I was with Hawke, just eating when I felt hungry rather than preparing meals at certain times. But with Fen' Harel in the house I couldn't just wander around High town in search of food. My stomach protested loudly. Scowling I finally gave in to hunger.

When I got back it was quiet. I couldn't hear the heavy noises of buckets of water being emptied into the bath. She'd probably left. I had been deliberately trying not to think of Fen' Harel because that would mean trying to work out what I'd seen and how I felt about it. Too many things were getting in the way of me and Darius, Hawke, Hawke's companions (especially the mages), the Deep Roads and now Fen' Harel. I climbed the stairs devouring the remaining pieces of salted bacon as I did and entered the main room, hoping to take comfort in the warmth of the fire and wine again. The fire was already lit and Fen' Harel was still here. Occupying the chair to the left of the fire place Fen' Harel's legs were stretched out across one side of the chair, her arm placed on the other arm with her head nestled in the crook of her elbow. The other over her chest, that rose and fell gently with sleep, the fingertips just stroking the floor.

Even wolves sleep peacefully.

Grasping another wine bottle in one clawed hand left to drink in an empty room in this maze of empty rooms.

A/N:

Be'jazus Fenris is like some hermit monk, some pissed off, mage hating monk. Anyway there you go. I decided to hurry it up abit because I was sick to death of the Deep Roads. That was your first little snippets of Fenris POV, I decided that I'd wait until later before I started getting inside his head. Fen' Harel's a bit whiny in this chapter but I wanted to show how she deals with problems, in this case Carver being forced into joining the Grey Wardens, which made me wonder what do you think of Fen' Harel? Send me a PM or review please, if you can, I'd really like to know. Thanks for reading ^_^


	12. The now Serah Hawke of Kirkwall

The now Serah Hawke of Kirkwall.

3 years later:

"They're finally published"

Varric shoved Tankards aside briskly with elbows and slammed three paperbacks down on the table, a triumphant grin plastered over his rugged little face.

"What?" me, Isabella, Merrill, Aveline, Hawke, Fenris and Anders asked simultaneously. Varric spread the books like cards across the table and spun them round so we wouldn't have to try deciphering them upside down. We leant forward eagerly.

"Oh Maker NO," Aveline gasped.

"Oh Maker YES," Isabella gasped. Anders began to clutch his sides with laughter, while Hawk and Merrill tried to discretely stifle theirs.

"What?" I asked craning my neck over. Aveline swayed backwards shocked or traumatised, I hadn't made up yet, and I wormed my way into her now empty place.

"Oh?" escaped my lips.

The first cover was decorated with a print of a well endowed Rivaini, wearing next to nothing with her assets spilling over the top of her bra. Someone had hastily sketched in a captain's hat in as last minute. Surrounding her was a group of muscled topless men, each one winking and covering some part of her body. Above the image was the title, "Below the Deck" and "Volume 1: That Mast is Very Big!" Still slightly confused I turned to the second one but only caught a glimpse of a red haired woman in a revealing guard's uniform practically straddling another guard, this one another topless buff man, before it was snatched from me.

"I'm going to incinerate this," Aveline warned, "before it can offend human eyes."

"Let's not get hasty," Varric tried to bargain.

I gave Fenris and Merrill a confused look which they mirrored and disinterested, we tried to read the third title. Suddenly that too was swiped from our reach and I slumped back in my chair. Meanwhile Aveline was still yelling about something or another, so I turned to Isabella who was raptly flicking the copy of "Below the Deck." She glanced up noticing me watching and raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you reading your copy yet, I'd have thought.." she began

"Rivaini," Varric interrupted her, "How's the book?"

Isabella paused. Her dark eyes flicked from me to Varric, me to Varric before mouthing "Oh" and winking at Varric.

"What the..." I began.

Just then a delivery boy crept up to Hawke, apologising for disrupting us, and whispered in his ear. Hawke sighed and pulled himself from the chair.

"I've got to go," he said wearily.

"Wait a second. I'll come too," I said, hastily pulling my jacket over my arms.

"Hawke!" Isabella called.

She tossed the paper book to him with a seductive smirk, "catch up on your reading," she winked. Hawke turned pink, shyly thanked her and left with me jogging at his heels.

I beamed at him, thoroughly amused with his massive crush on Isabella.

"Hey Hawke," I said smiling still," and threw him a piece of rubbish from my pocket, "catch up on your reading," I cooed forcing the most over exaggerated wink known to Thedas.

Hawke turned pinker and I just laughed.

"You can beat Rock Wraiths, no problems but you're absolutely defeated by any sexual innuendos" I teased.

"It's a problem," he sighed.

"Maybe an understatement. That last blush looked painful," I said.

"Well, you're a girl, Fen' Harel."

"Well observed."

"What do you think...," he sighed in defeat and voice gaining that Hawke like authority again he changed topic, "Have you heard anything of the Templars."

"No, not yet," I told him, "I think they're starting to consider me having drowned at sea as a possibility, which is good. But then again Templars aren't the most observant people in the world; I mean how many female half elves do you see running around Kirkwall?"

Hawke chuckled, "It's a wonder any of us haven't been caught yet."

We stopped in front of Hawke mansion as he searched for a key. The Hawke mansion, which had previously been the Amell Mansion, was our new home. I was glad to be free of Gamlen, who found new depths to the term body odour, but I kind of missed the variety of people found in Low town. And I missed Carver. He wrote but it wasn't the same. At least Leandra seemed happy here, not as hopeless as she did in Gamlen's little hole.

"Mother," Hawke said opening the door for me to enter first. A wave of heat hit me coupled with the inviting smell of bread baking.

"Home," I breathed.

"Hawke, Fen' Harel," Leandra smiled from around the corner, "I'm just going out but there's fresh bread just cooking now."

"Thanks," I smiled, careful not to step close enough for her to smell the pungent fumes of the Hanged man clinging to me. I'd rather not be fixed with a disapproving eye and a weary speech.

"I'm going to go get changed," I said, hurrying away to my room.

"Oh, Hawke, you get changed too I'd like you to come with me," she called pausing before the door.

"Can't sorry, I've got Viscount Business, another time maybe?" he said hurrying too to his room.

"Okay, I'll be back at nine, remember the bread," Leandra left.

I had to pass through the library to reach my room. I t was by far my favourite room in the house. There were solid oak bookcase, filling each wall and thousands of books filling each bookcase. Ancient Hardbacks of every leather bound colour jutting proudly out the selves. I ran one hand absently along the spines. A million places to get lost. Hawke's intricately threaded carpets were soft underneath my bare feet broken every now and then with warm stone that seemed to radiate its own heat. The house was magnificent; each part tailored and of the highest quality with Leandra's influences stopping it from seeming cold. She had prepared a bedroom for me upstairs but I had chosen to take this room myself. It was the room that would have been occupied by a servant, not that that had anything to do with it I just liked being near the library, at the moment it was occupied by Dog. The still unimaginatively named bulk was lying stretched across my bed a puddle of drool slowly forming on the floor nearby.

"Dog," I groaned trying to heave him off my bed. He barked and wagged his tail excitedly.

"Maker no..." the canine leaped and pinned me to the floor hastily plastering me with a rough tongue. I shoved him off and scowled as I searched the room for a cloth. My room was about the same size of the main room in Gamlen's house, most of that solely occupied by a washing area, and had been decorated due to Leandra in accordance to the rest of the house. Due to me, it was also a bit of a tip, with random objects littering the floor and any available desk space. There were small carvings, ruins, coins, feathers, gems, bottles and books scattered about the room, with flags and paintings attached to the walls. Strangely it managed to remain uncluttered and instead held its own organized chaos with plenty of space to spare.

I changed into my leisure clothes similar to Hawke's but a subtle mix of pale and dark blues and strange tights instead of trousers. I stretched and left the room in search of Hawke. I found him in the kitchen, changed, reading a book on elemental magic and scoffing at the bread. I eyed him suspiciously.

"Haven't you got business?" I asked.

Hawke looked suitably guilty, "I can't stand those shopping trips," he mumbled apologetically.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

We did in fact have Viscount Business to attend to. Rising early, I strolled into the kitchen tearing of a piece of the bread to sustain me until we had finished for the day. I paused en route, feeling goose bumps race along the skin of my back. Turning slowly with narrowed eyes I stopped and continued to glare.

"Enchantment," Sandal drawled.

Still glaring at the sinister creature, I began to walk backwards into the kitchens when finally safe from the disturbing little dwarf did I let my guard drop. Sandal gave me the creeps. I swear I could hear weird suspenseful string music playing every time he turned up. I still held a fascinated resentment though. What he was capable of still perplexed me.

I met Hawke in the kitchen again. He was hooking potions into his belt and straightening out his man dress, sorry, robes.

"Any idea what the Viscount wants?" I asked pulling off a piece of beard and tucking it away.

"No idea but it's important that we make the right impression, if we want to gain favour for the Mages," he said preoccupied.

The conflict between Templars and mages, it was rearing its ugly head more often now days. The situation could only get worse; it was like water left to boil in a pot, at some point it's going to spill over. It was only a matter of time. Hawke ran around with Anders alot more, sometimes spending all night planning and debating how to save the mages, but he hadn't taken action yet preferring to use the correct methods. I didn't like to think about, didn't like to think about what choices we'd have to make in the future because we both knew what sides we'd chose. I didn't want to ruin my time now, worry about then anyway there was no guarantee I'd live that long.

The seneschal made me wait outside the Viscounts chamber. Hawke argued reasonably with him for about five minutes but I told him I'd be awkward in there anyway so reluctantly he left. I found better ways of passing time by intimating the nobles accents and phrases to myself, and the great annoyance of the pompous seneschal who was one more "oh dear me, I seemed to have misplaced a cuff link" away from shooing me. Hawke flew the doors open, the people nearby staring up at him, drawn to that presence he seemed to carry.

"So?" I asked.

"The Arishok has requested my presence...personally."

A/N:

I know not much happens in this chapter but I wanted to get the general drift of Fen' Harel's life now she's loaded. Dog strikes again : D


	13. Attack of the green mist

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

The attack of the green mist.

We collected the companions together, with Anders surprisingly declining and Aveline more surprisingly accompanying us. She whistled when she walked and even flashed me the odd smile.

"Maker is it the end of the world or something," I asked Isabella, after Aveline bumped into me smiled and apologised.

"Hrmm?" Isabella said head snapping up from the now slightly dog-eared copy of "Below the Deck".

"I said it's weird, Aveline hasn't given you one superior glance and I haven't received one suspicious look," I said, "and not one insult. Not one."

Isabella frowned, her thin eyebrows knitting in confusion, "that is strange," she mused, "maybe she read Varric's book."

"No, I'd bet that she stabbed the book, burned it and stabbed it again just to make sure as soon as she got back to the Barracks," I frowned at the thought of the book's murder at Aveline's hands.

Isabella's eyes began to dart around widely as we neared the Quarni compound and she began to slow pace backwards.

"Isabella?" I asked confused by the sudden change of behaviour.

"Er, look I've got to go, things to do, people to see. Tell Hawke I'm sorry but I really needed to go," she said hurriedly before sprinting off.

Slightly bewildered by the sudden change in Isabella's behaviour. I gaped after her for a moment.

"Where's she off to then?" Aveline asked jovially. I just stared at her like she was some alien creature, for all I knew she could be possessed, it'd be a more believable change than Aveline suddenly liking me.

"You're a strange one," she chuckled giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Aveline..." Hawke said at the front of the group, he paused noticing Isabella's sudden absence, "Where's Isabella?"

"She said she had to go," I shrugged. Hawke kept eye contact for a moment before turning to address Aveline again.

"I'm only permitted two people as escorts. I told them you and Fenris would join me," he continued. Aveline nodded once, all seriousness returning to her face.

I waited on the dusty steps for them. Watching the heat and dirt rise and swell around the feet of the passing people, theirs arms raised shielding them from the new infant sunlight. Leaning against the wall, I hid near the shadows with Varric and Merrill. Varric immediately began to polish his weapon adoringly, instantly cutting me off from conversation.

"Fen' Harel," I lifted my head in Merrill's direction, "I was wondering when you'd come over to my house."

"Oh Merrill, I'm sorry it's been awhile since my visit..."  
>"It's just that I acquired some more pieces on Dalish Folklore," she rushed, looking apologetic when she realized that she'd interrupted me.<p>

"Yeah sounds good," I smiled. I did enjoy going over to Merrill's hut, she was so passionate about the Dalish history that it was hard not to get caught up in her excitement. I'd only been four times in three years; exchanging what little information I had with her.

"What about tonight?" she asked.

"Can't tonight, sorry I've got training with Fenris."

"Oh," she seemed slightly crestfallen and I was eternally grateful when Hawke re-appeared.

It seemed one of Hawke's earlier decisions had spun back to bite him on the ass. A dwarf called Jarvis Tintop had acquired some of the Quarni Black powder, which in fact had been swapped for a poison highly deadly to the other races, not including the Quarni.

Eventually after being led on a wild goose chase for the past couple of hours, we arrived at a yet another of the poky alleyways that were the veins of Low town. This one however was more overcrowded than the others with a mass of anxious people milling around. Hawke gently parted them away until he reached a guard who was trying to single handily manage the hectic crowd. Aveline immediately began addressing the guard who looked even more startled by the Captain's presence and allowed us entry into the murky square below.

The fog shifted as my bare foot eased itself to the floor. The thick, green substance began curling spitefully around me, clawing at my face. I coughed as it crawled down my throat and sat unpleasantly in my lungs. I heard other raspy coughs near me but could only make out shadowy figures of the others in the smog.

"I can't see anything," Merrill called from somewhere behind me.

"It's okay Daisy," Varric's voice broke through the mist sounding just as clear and confident as always, "we're fine."

"It's coming from those barrels," Anders said, "We need to find some way of closing them."

There was another hacking cough from behind me, Merrill I guessed must be suffering maybe living among the Dalish had meant she hadn't built the same natural defences.

"Here, tie this round your mouth," I reached behind me offering the silhouette a wet piece of cloth that I'd ripped from my sleeve.

A slender hand emerged and, fumbling slightly, grasped the cloth before withdrawing back into the green mist.

"Thank you," Merrill said softly.

We paced forwards, weapons drawn; scanning every shape and shadow intently in case they could be an unseen enemy.

"I think I've found something Hawke," exclaimed. I heard the creaking of metal on metal then the mist began to thin slightly, just enough for me to see directly in front of me. It was at that moment that black shapes glided down from the roofs.

"Mercenaries!" Hawke called.

Slinking into a more comfortable battle pose, I swung Sofia, the handle feeling so familiar by now that it was almost part of me. However I was soon faced with a problem, it was rather difficult to kill someone you couldn't see until they were breathing down your neck. Shapes and noises danced in and out of the fog just out of reach.

"Hawke!" I called, "we can't fight them like this you'll need to use an area spell."  
>"But I'll hit someone if I can't see where you all are," he shouted. A few blasts of light in the fog somewhere made it seem as though it were beating with a sickly green heart.<p>

"We'll take cover, and there's less of a chance of getting out if we carry on like this," I replied.

There was a long silence before Hawke yelled, "Everyone find cover!"

Shapes were moving faster now and I managed to stab a few fleeing mercenaries as their faces flashed past my line of sight. All the time stumbled desperately for any shelter before I was caught in the full merciless heat of Hawke's inferno. Nothing. I couldn't find a thing. Not even a crate to scurry under. Then it dawned on me, I was out in the open. I could feel the steady hum of Hawke's magic charging like a drumbeat. Oh crap.

A hand snaked out and griped my wrist, pulling me roughly behind a low lying wall.

"We saw you stumbling around out there just in time," Isabella whispered through the fog. Fenris just growled something about me being useless then something else in a language I didn't understand but sounded vaguely familiar. I could make out the gleaming markings etched in his skin, the mist churning churned weakly around them.

"Thanks," I grinned, just managing to duck my head undercover before a blast of heat licked over the top of the stone.

I stayed near Fenris after that, his markings offering some light and making it much easier to stab the right people. But after Hawke closed the third barrel, I could see fine anyway and picking off the archers was child's play. The mist however was a different matter however. My lungs were beginning to burn sharply, feeling heavier and more pained with each breath. It was like breathing small nails. Merrill was suffering terribly, having to stop drawing in gasps of air before choking it back up again. She was paler and drawn by the time Hawke closed the last barrel, leaning heavily against her staff.

"Easy Daisy," Varric said offering his shoulder as support which she gladly took.

The physco smuggler turned up, rattling off on some massive rant about the Quarni which I missed most of because I zoned out again.

"It's like losing them twice," she screeched, snapping me out of my reverie, "Attack!"

Hawk instantly began climbing up the stairs to face the fanatic head on. Swing low and striking upwards I impaled a mercenary that was tailed Hawke. Just as I tried to remove the body from Sofia, another mercenary kicked me strongly from behind sending me sprawling to the floor. I managed to catch myself before face planting and pushing my full momentum behind my leg I swung round kicking the mercenary in the privates. He grunted and doubled over. I pulled myself up kneeing the attacker sharply in the face. The fight carried on in that way until Hawke finally dispatched the smugger and we could hack our guts up thankfully.

A/N:

There we go another chapter. Merrill's a bit weak in this but she's never really been the fearsome type. Not much happened in this chapter, I wanted to get some of the quests out the way, even though Fen' Harel seems to spend most of her time waiting outside doors -_- I should remedy that but reams of dialogue that's already in the game's slightly tiresome because we both already know what's going to be said next.

Anyway...THANKS FOR READING! :D


	14. Fenris' endless supply of wine

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Fenris' endless supply of wine makes a reappearance.

I awake to find no peace of mind,

I said how do you live as a fugitive?

Down here,

Where I can not see so clear,

I said what do I know?

Show me the right way to go.

From Spies by Coldplay.

Feeling relatively battered after the ordeal with the Black powder, I made my way to Fenris' mansion for training. I didn't really feel up to it, the training sessions had become increasingly violent. We'd been pushing each other harder suddenly until both of us left exhausted with new cuts and bruises. I felt as though I was pushing something other than myself and Fenris, something that I didn't want to accept. Something I was fighting with a grim determination despite its constant hounding. One of us had surrender, one had to give way. I just was unsure what'd happen to me if I was overpowered.

Wearily I knocked at the wood, coughing into my hand again as the remainder of the vicious substance was driven from my lungs.

Fenris' POV:

She was standing at my door again, visibly affected from the fight that had ended not an hour ago. She watched me with strangely pale eyes before one side of her mouth curled up into a lopsided smile. I found myself smiling back today I was celebrating, an anniversary of the bitter kind.

Fen' Harel's POV:

Fenris didn't direct me into the training room, instead leading me through the corridors to the heart of the house. I loved Fenris' mansion, like ruins something here hinted at a past glory but was even more beautiful now in its own broken way. He seated himself at the head of the table, which was now laden with bottles of wine and busied himself with snapping the neck of the nearest one open on the table.

"Celebrating something are we?" I asked, eyeing the bottles with a mischievous grin.

"Yes, actually," he grinned in return, "my escape."

And at that moment, beaming with triumph and his face only partially lit by the firelight I found that I couldn't look away from him. Marking how each line and curve met one another, how his cheek bones left a slight gaunt underneath them, how softly his jaw curved and how very similar his upper lip was to an archer's bow. All the time, those green eyes danced and gleamed in the semi-darkness.

He reached one slender arm over, offering me the bottle with the broken neck before beginning to open his own.

"Would you like to hear the story?" he grinned leaning forward with his best impish smile. Like always I took the bait willingly.

"I do love a good story," I said. I'd been dying to hear it but had decided that Fenris would tell me when he wanted to. And now my impatience was finally at an end.

"But first you have to promise to answer my own question afterwards," he slunk back in his chair studying me intently.

"I promise," I agreed, curiosity piqued further by what his own question.

"Let's see, you've heard of Seheron? The Imperium and the Quarni have fought over the island for centuries now," Fenris' eyes misted slightly, relieving some memory in a far away land "I was there with Daruis during a Quarni attack. I managed to get him to a ship- but there was no room for a slave. I was left behind. I barely got out of the city alive."

I wanted patiently for him to continue, loathe to break his trance now.

"There were rebels in the Seheron jungles called Fog Warriors. They found me and took me in, and nursed me back to health. I stayed with them for a time until Darius finally came for me."

I couldn't imagine how that felt, to just taste freedom when your former master managed to make his reappearance.

"I'd grown fond of the rebels. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom. It was," he hung his head and drew the bottle once again to his lips "beyond my experience. When Daruis came they refused to let him take me."

"He ordered me to kill them. So I did. I killed them all."

The pain was evident on his face. It hurt to see it. I wondered what it was doing to him, relieving this, even though I imagined he probably did this to himself every night. Reviving the memory again and again like he was dragging himself over razor blades. I understood though, to an extent. If the Templars had once again found me within that first year in Hawke's company and had made a similar request, I would have once again followed orders, as always. My own body had been too numb that the Templars were the ones controlling it.

"It felt inevitable. My master had returned and this, this fantasy life was over. But once it was done, I looked down at their bodies...I felt...I couldn't...I ran and never looked back." He turned his shame ridden face away from me and I drew back only now realizing that we had both been leaning slowly forward.

He drained the last of the bottle and re-opened another.

"So," he said all previous emotion draining from his face to be replaced by that strange, mocking grin, that I was becoming fond of, "I believe we had an agreement."

"We did indeed," I said, feeling more nervous now, I took a swig of the wine more thankful of its presence now.

Fenris' POV.

"I've already told you the story of my escape and I know yours," I smiled at the memory of Fen' Harel tumbling out of that crate, the confused look on Anders' face was perfect, "I just don't know the story of my enslavement...or yours."

"Ah," she said, smiling bitterly.

It had always been a mystery to me, Fen' Harel spoke with an upper class accent it wasn't as if she'd been born to this. I watched her collect her thoughts for a moment, the fire casting a warm glow on her face, the strong nearly eleven nose with its odd buttony end, her strong slightly masculine jaw and full lips. It was her eyes that were the most eye catching feature; they were pale blue with a ring of darker blue biting at the very edge.

"You already know that my mother was born in a Dalish clan," I nodded, it was the reason why Merrill kept sniffing around her all the time, "she moved to the Alienage in the nearest town, Mercia, and took up work as a servant in the Bann's house."

"She later became a performer once the other staff realized her talent at Dance. Something I obviously didn't inherit," she grinned to herself, "along with her good looks. People my age were still hitting on her, years later."

"As you'd expect the Bann also took an interest. But it wasn't the classic lord rapes elfin servant story you'd expect. The Bann actually fell in love with her, she lived in the castle and he didn't even bed her until a year later...anyhow that's how me and my brother ended up as the half breed bastard children of Bann Wulfhere of Mercia. I loved my parents, I argued with my mom alot but I loved them."

I'd seen plenty of servants have the magisters bastards in the Trevinter, it wasn't an unusual situation. She was staring at something, something I couldn't see.

"Things started changing when we grew older; my father was made to marry an Orlesian lady. He and mother began arguing and eventually wouldn't talk to one another. Mother left the castle and returned to the Alienage, people were beginning to talk loosely now that the on-coming drama of the Bann's new wife was on the way," her jaw tensed, "Everything was falling apart and in all of it I didn't notice what James was going through."

I recognized the shamed expression it was one I'd wore myself minutes before, it was the mark of wrong decisions made, the shame at the inability to do nothing.

"We were in our teens then, a common age for magic to show itself. James was exceptionally skilled at force magic but not at hiding it. The same year I discovered that my father was selling slaves to the Trevinter." She watched me for a reaction, studying my face for the anger I was trying hard to conceal, "when the Templars came, he pleaded, he bargained with everything he had. The Templars must have been looking for someone to perform the ritual on because they already knew the slavers my father traded with and tested James blood for it. His blood was perfectly able of mixing with the Lyrium but they deemed him too young to survive the marking."

She hastily gulped down the wine.

"They made a new deal, an exchange for me. The Trevinter took my brother, the Templars took me."

We shared each other's secrets now and I felt linked to Fen' Harel because of it.

Fen' Harel's POV:

"I have never spoken about what happened to anyone. I've never wanted to. Perhaps maybe this is what it means to have a friend," Fenris mused. 

"Are we friends now?" I smiled lopsidedly. I didn't think of Fenris as a friend, Varric was a friend, Isabella was a friend but Fenris...I didn't see him as that. I wanted something from Fenris, I just didn't know what.

"No, I suspect not," he smirked at me. There it was again that heavy feeling, like something crushing both of us with expectation, leaving us in a tense silence.

I stood, "I should be going Mother Hawke with be worrying away in that mansion by himself."

I looked back at him from the doorway, "Goodnight Fenris."

"Goodnight Fen' Harel."

Hawke wasn't alone in the mansion, there were muffled noises coming from upstairs. Confused I paused in the centre of the sitting room, moving forward my foot struck something. I glanced down to find one of Isabella's daggers lying on the floor.

Looking up I noticed the trail of discarded clothes on the stairs, Isabella's boots, Hawke's top, Isabella's corset, Hawke's belt with the trail ending at Hawke's hastily closed bedroom door.

"Finally," I thought, smirking to myself.

Grabbing a couple of books from the library I retreated to my room and closed the firmly behind me.

I dreamt that night of Fenris in the jungle with bodies at his feet. He was the only thing there that was in focus, each feature clear with the grief bright on his face while the background and faces faded slightly. Except this time Fenris' old master wasn't the figure wearing Magister cloth standing over his shoulder. It was my brother.

A/N:

I know Hawke and Isabella were earlier than in the game but remember that those too have been flirting none stop for three years and it was driving me slightly insane. I hoped you liked the whole Fenris and Fen' Harel thing, including her back story. Please review

THANKS FOR READING! ^_^


	15. The source of Aveline's sudden nicness

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

The source of Aveline's sudden...niceness.

The most of the next day was spent dealing with raiders on the wounded coast. I was considerably more irritated after walking into what felt like every pissing trap in Kirkwall. It was just me, Hawke and Aveline today with Merrill resting and the others protesting that they had their own business to attend to.

"We should accompany the Lieutenant back to the barracks," Aveline suggested in that serious, clipped voice of hers.

I glanced over at the wounded patrol and for once found myself agreeing with Aveline.

"We should," I said, wiping the blood from Sofia onto my leg. Hawke nodded and Aveline rewarded me with a smile.

"C'mon Lieutenant we'll be accompanying you and you're patrol back to the Barracks," the Lieutenant opened his mouth to argue but Aveline cut him off, "no arguing I will not have my guards wandering around Hightown in this state."

After delivering the guards to the barracks, who, gratified, limped off to the infirmary.

"Hawke," Aveline whispered as the last one thanked us and left, "can I ask you something."

"Of course Aveline," Hawke replied.

"Well, I...I'd like to ask you to do something she struggled," I was even further confused by Aveline, where was that frigid, stoic Guardsman I knew and hated me?

She retrieved something from her office and began to surreptitiously show us the object in her hands. It was a metal flower. Maker, I wished Isabella was here. It seemed that the reason of Aveline's sudden good mood was Guardsman Donnic, a man possessing the largest side burns in Thedas. And we would have to deliver weird little gifts and organize dates, all evening.

"Screw this," I grimaced, "I'm going home."

Hawke pleaded with a desperate glance but didn't seem to want to upset Aveline so allowed me to leave with little resistance.

Chuckling to myself I decided to visit the Hanged man, now that it was beginning to grow late, hoping for Varric or Isabella's light hearted company. I debated calling on Fenris now I was in Hightown. This meant literally walking through the square muttering to myself, turning to walk in the direction of Fenris' mansion, turning around again and after a final groan of frustration marching off to find Fenris.

"Hello," I said when he opened the door, "I was about to visit the Hanged man I was wondering if you wanted to join me."

He looked bleary eyed and stank slightly of that sickly sweet wine smell. Someone had obviously continued to drink after last night. Nevertheless he hesitated before agreeing.

We talked lightly on the way deciding not to mention the other night. We'd both made ourselves more vulnerable that night something that we accepted but I suppose didn't want to be pointed out. I found it difficult trusting people but I realized with a jolt that I must trust Fenris to share so much with him.

Varric and Isabella were indeed in the Hanged man, along with an ill looking Merrill and Anders who was conversing merrily with the Varric. I hadn't seen Anders like that before, looser without that world weary look. They were all in Varric's backroom, decorated with the geometric rigid Dwarfen ornaments. I was glad to see that Varric had the alcohol and Isabella had the cards. They all looked up at our entrance, smiling except for Anders who returned to looking strained.

"Fancy a game," Isabella said waving the pack of cards.

I nodded vigorously pulling up a chair and a tankard. Isabella motioned for Fenris to play too, which he did.

"It's just too easy with Merrill," Isabella sighed, "Sorry kitten."

"It's alright," Merrill said sadly, "I'm terrible."

"Let me guess Isabella's cheated you out of all the gold you had on you now, your dining room table and your soul," I asked.  
>"Not quite," Isabella smirked.<p>

"Yeah, what would you do with a dining room table?" I grinned.

"Are you two, going to play or not?" Fenris asked arching one eyebrow.

Fenris was fiercely competitive and just as stubborn, I had the suspicion that this game would take all night. I was teasing him again while we played, he'd always reply with his own insults. He was so quick to anger and I got an odd sense of satisfaction every time he rose to one of my jibes. It and his dry sense of humour made me laugh. However Fenris gave as good as he got, he had a maddening ability to get under my skin.

Hawke showed up, half an hour later looking distinctly peeved. Isabella used this as an opportunity to hurriedly hide the cards from Fenris.

"How'd it go with Aveline?" I asked as sighing wearily he sat down.

"What happened with Aveline?" Isabella whispered to be.

"She fancies mutton chops," I explained nonchantly like it was a well known fact.

"Mutton chops?" she asked incredulously.

I turned to face her but caught sight of Hawke's face when he noticed Isabella. It was pure hurt, like he's heart was breaking right there. A wave of concern flooded through me.

"Hawke?" Fenris asked lightly, mirroring my anxious look.

"I'm fine," he smiled suddenly trying to reassure us, "my leg just hurts."

He turned to talk to Anders, his back to Isabella completely. Me and Fenris glanced at one another before deciding to not pursue him when he blatantly didn't want to be questioned. And instead started telling Isabella about Aveline and her metal flower.

The others tried hiding their curiosity. And their concern, it warmed Hawke to know that they cared so much. But he couldn't look at her. He just couldn't bring himself to. Hawke watched his companions. He watched them all laughing together at some joke he'd managed to miss, watched Varric at an eternal ease with himself, Merrill watching him with that child like fascination, Fenris trying to hide a smile behind a scowl and Fen' Harel listening with interest and a lopsided grin. They kept sub-consciously glancing at one another.

"I know you're not fine, Hawke," Anders said at his shoulder, speaking as if we were having a normal conversation but in a low voice as to not attract attention.

"Seriously Anders I'm...," Hawke turned to face him but stopped when he came face to face with those butterscotch eyes.

Anders followed Hawke's line of sight, "it's about her isn't it?" he asked, "it's about Isabella?"

"Yes," Hawke replied, "we slept together the other night."

Anders flinched but hid it well with a smile.

"Then what's the problem?" Anders asked.

Hawke sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. "It's complicated," he breathed, "You'd probably think I'm stupid".

"Try me," Anders smiled.

"It's just that afterwards, I just thought, I thought," he sighed again, "It was just sex that was it."

"And you?"

"Don't do just sex. She doesn't care for me like that; she never had any intention from the start for it to be anything else."

"I see."

"We just want different things," Hawke smiled sadly up at Anders. He once again felt that surge of attraction for Hawke, who seemed now more tired and broken.

"We all do," Anders whispered bitterly.

A/N:

This is a really short chapter, sorry. I just wanted to get some relationship stuff in. Isabella and Hawke's relationship didn't last long but I promise it's part of the story. Aww poor Hawke :'( Bless him.

Anyway thanks for reading :D and all your reviews.


	16. An unwanted invitation

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

An unwanted invitation.

I wiped the blood roughly from my face with the sleeve of my jacket, and raising my head began gulping down a lungful of open air.

"You okay?" Hawke asked. There was a jolt of nostalgia as Hawke's face shifted into Carvers, something that I found myself doing often and was accompanied with wishing he was here.

"Yeah," I smiled, "just the deep roads made me a bit claustrophobic."

Lifting an arm to shield the pale sunlight from my eyes I stared across the expanse of Sundermount. A blanket of fog and grey that was pierced now and then by protruding mountain tops. The mountains were untidy, a shamble of rocks pushed and tied together with the odd patches of vegetation clinging desperately to the stone.

I was glad to be out of the caves. Hawke had agreed to help Merrill arm a killer demon mirror, Maker knows why. After hours of caverns, the biggest of which containing a huge Varterral, I was beginning to get that uncomfortable compressing feeling again. It was three weeks since the Aveline situation and since then it had seemed to open a floodgate of quests, of random people asking Hawke for help. Including a templar named Emmeric about some mage called DuPuis (who Hawke of course refused to kill until he had further evidence), another Quarni situation that concerned a group of Quarni delegates and some crazy Templar that Hawke some how knew and some tasks for Anders. Anders. Hawke was spending alot of time with Anders, discussing things that apostates weren't really meant to discuss when they had family to lose.

Hawke had always talked with Anders but he'd never acted on it until now. All of a sudden Hawke was receiving suspicious looking mail at night and people in Circle robes were hidden in rooms when Templars came knocking. Hawke was leaving in the middle of the night and returning covered in dirt and blood. And all the time Anders was ranting away in his ear. There was a tension building in the group, I could feel it like we were all just waiting for the storm to brew.

At about ten that night there was a knock at the door. Hawke's and my head shot up to look at one another before glancing back at the door. Pulling himself up, Hawke walked straight backed to the door, only opening partially before addressing the visitor.

"Hawke," Varric purred, "You haven't forgotten about our little agreement tonight?"

Hawke's jaw tightened, "of course not."

Varric smiled ruthlessly.

"A little family reunion, just you, me, Bartrand," he caressed the rose coloured wood of his crossbow, "and Bianca."

Hawke reached for his robe and staff, "I'll be back later," he said then turned to glare at me. "Don't read my mail," he growled before closing the door behind him.

As soon as I was certain the door was shut I skipped over to his table and began to leaf through his mail.

Hawke had already reprimanded me several times for burning supposedly important mail from Underground Railroad or Mage resistance. We had more and more silent arguments, where we'd just sit there each refusing to budge before Hawke finally sighed and left.

There wasn't any today, which either meant they were planning something big, or they were delivering them to Hawke personally. However there was a new envelope among the letters. Something Orlesian looking that stunk of expensive flower scented perfume. I had a moment of reminiscence but I couldn't put my finger on why. Curious, I took the envelope back to my chair and curled up with it on my lap. I ripped the top open and with careful fingers pulled the thin paper free.

Written in huge looping, black letters across the paper was an invitation. It read,

"Serah Hawke,

We are excited about inviting you, as an up coming person within Kirkwall to our ball upon the following two days within the Evermore Mansion, Hightown.

Yours,

Lady Evermore and Lord Wulfhere, Bann of Mercia."

My head leant backwards to gently graze the wood of the chair, and I just looked at the letter. Just sat there looking at it, unsure what to think or feel while my brain tried to soak up the information in front of it. Why now? Why was all this being dragged up when I had finally regained myself and a life? My hand twitched to burn the old life, to forget I'd ever seen it. But I couldn't. Why couldn't I? Because I needed to go, because I needed closure but I wasn't sure how to get it. And because I knew that a ball in Kirkwall was a front for my father to deliver his newest batch of slaves to the Trevinter traders that still operated here but obviously not so openly. I had to go, I needed to go.

"Fen' Harel?"

Hawke. How long had I been sitting here? He sounded worried.

"Hawke," I said turning to face him. He looked different, older. I hadn't noticed how all that awkwardness had gone since the deep roads to be replaced by a resilient certainty.

He glanced down at the letter on my lap then began to carefully study my face as if those hawk eyes could pick out every secret.

"Hawke, can we go to a ball, but first I need to talk to you."

A/N:

Super short chapter, but it's not due to laziness. I just wanted the ball to be in a new chapter rather than hanging off the end of this one. Anyway the ball is kinda of Fen' Harel's companion quest for Act two and I've been dying to write it for ages. I promise dresses and drama. Fun times ^_^

Thanks for reading :D

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.


	17. The Ball

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

The Ball.

"Is this the right one?" Anders asked, eyeing the huge estate nervously.

"It looks like it," Fenris growled drily as yet another drunken couple staggered past in full party attire. The front of the house was filled with impatient Hightowners stitched up in the finest silks and jewels, some drunk, some impatient to get in and some waiting tautly for friends, dates or relatives. I recognized a few guests from Fereldan but they of course never even noticed me.

"I have to say, the nobles know how to throw a good party," Varric said eyeing the fourth barrel of wine to be surrendered to the ball accompanied with yet another group of high end escorts.

"And I didn't have to fork out a sovereign, thanks for the outfits Hawke," Varric winked appraising his attire.

"Don't mention it. It gave mother something to do at least," he said.

Anders, Hawke and Varric were all dressed in the correct noble dress code. The material soft and feather like but appearing rigid with strong collars to enhance their masculinity. Leandra had each chosen a colour for them, with rich golds and browns for Varric, light blues for Anders and a deep red to Hawke that meant you kept glancing across at him.

"Thanks Hawke," Isabella said, pulling her hair loose from its tie. Leandra apparently getting the wrong idea had coloured coordinated Isabella to match Hawke. The dress was tight at the top pulling everything in and up, with a full skirt that Isabella managed to make sway with her hips despite the fact the dress was weighed down with pearls. It was slightly tense between the two which made everyone else feel awkward in situations like this.

I looked across at Fenris with a devilish smirk.

"Don't even start," he warned with a scowl.

I had to smother laughter. To keep up the appearance that we were three nobles, Serah Hawke, his lady (Isabella) and his friends (Anders and Varric). There were no elven lords, therefore me; Fenris and Isabella were dressed as their elven servants, me pairing with Hawke and Isabella, Merrill with Varric and best of all Fenris with Anders. Hawke had protested demanding that we wear the same as them but after I pointed out how much unwanted attention that'd draw he'd finally gave in. Not that I wanted to act as his servant all night but people here saw the ears first.

So me and Merrill had wore the common female elf clothes for this ball, which wasn't far from a mix of the escorts clothing and the nobles, and meant that everything was revealing but with a modicum of dignity. Fenris too was decked up too like a prize cattle, in revealingly tight clothes which only made it harder to stop looking at him.

"Serah Hawke," Hawke informed the guarded servant at the door while I stood modestly behind him and Isabella. The servant leaned to the side, eyeing Varric and Merrill, and Anders and Fenris distrustfully as if to say "they with you?"

"And party," Hawke motioned to the rest us.

The servant stood aside and began to wave us in.

A wave of heat hit me and my eyes found it difficult to focus on one place at a time. Too much colour, too much noise, too much everything was flooding through my brain in a wonderful confusion. Only the knot in my stomach steadied me before I too was swept up in the rush of people dancing, talking, laughing or drinking or watching other people dance, talk, laugh or drink. In between a thousand milling guests, a thousand elven servants catered them, wearing similar outfits as me and avoiding eye contact. I remembered these, I remembered watching the heat and the noise from a doorway or hearing it rise through the floor when I slept. These weren't the sort of parties young children or teenagers attended as the guards hinted at.

"Serah Hawke," someone detached themselves from a group and shook Hawke's hand roughly; "I didn't think you came to these balls."

"I don't usually, sorry I need to find someone," Hawke smiled, trying to distance himself from the guest, who shrugged and walked off to rejoin another circle of people.

"Oh," he called over his shoulder, "you better find them soon, I heard the Bann say he was starting dinner in ten minutes."

Panic began to fester in my stomach. Was ten minutes long enough?

"Fen' Harel," Hawke said, "where are the sl.."

"...Hawke!" another noble called. I didn't have time for this.

"I'll go," I whispered in his ear, "it'll take too long if you're stopped every five minutes. Besides people will notice if you just disappear nobody's going to take note of a missing servant."

Hawke turned to face me, ready to argue but stopped, staring me straight in the eye before nodding quickly and addressing the tipsy noble. I darted off un-noticed, worming my way through the heaving groups and feeling as though ghosts were clinging to my feet with every step.

Fenris' POV:

"Is she alright on her own?" Merrill asked following Fen' Harel's trail anxiously.

"I'll go," I said on impulse, weaving my way through the crowd.

"Of course you would," Isabella called; I could still hear her laugh above the noise.

I could just see glimpses of Fen' Harel through the sea of gowns and laughing faces. I reached out, in hope of grasping her arm and using it as an anchor in this dizziness but just missed. Finally breaking free from the crowd, I watched as she made her way down a long hallway with the familiarity of someone who's passed down it a thousand times before. Maybe she had. I tried to envisage Fen' Harel here as a child, walking these halls, mixing among the others but couldn't. To me as a child she was always slightly messy, covered in paint or mud with that strange lopsided smile of hers. And once again I began to notice the hole in my past, the great gaping emptiness of knowing nothing of it. Maybe I'd walked these halls.

"Fen' Harel," I called rushing to meet her in the empty hallway.

"Fenris?" she breathed slightly confused like I'd just materialized from thin air.

"You seem surprised to see me?" I asked.

"I...I just expected to do this on my own," she said still frowning at me.

"Well, Isabella didn't seem surprised," I muttered.

Fen' Harel laughed to herself, "she thinks we jump each other every time we're left alone for five minutes."

The sentence hung heavy in the air for five minutes and I was barely registering how close Fen' Harel was to me before it happened. I felt it first, her lips just brushing mine, each kiss slow and tender and sweet enough to make my stomach melt. As her lips sucked and nipped playfully at mine, her hand reached up to caress my face gently as if I or she might break if she moved too fast. Instinct took over, and while Fen' Harel's kisses were delicious sweet and warm, I wanted more. Crushing her mouth roughly with mine, I pulled her closer thankful for the first time for the skimpy servant attire. She froze at first before wrapping her tongue softly against my probing one and digging a hand through my hair. Each kiss was sour sweet, my forcefulness merging with her tenderness until the music and the noise faded, while me and Fen' Harel were brought to a staggering focus.

"Where's the bathroom?"

Fen' Harel detached herself from me reluctantly, breathing heavily near my lips, eyes closed before pushing away to address the noble. It was almost painful, like tearing off a dressing. I felt like crushing the guy's heart for interrupting it. Fen' Harel pointed towards a door, but not before he scanned her body leeringly. I growled at him and his eyes flicked to me and narrowed. The noble headed off in search of the bathroom.

"We better hurry," Fen' Harel whispered glaring at the sea of people behind us, "there isn't much time."

She sprinted off again, leading me down corridors.

Fen' Harel's POV:

I could still feel Fenris' lips on mine. I wasn't sure how it'd started or where it'd come from just how Fenris had kissed me. I felt light that twisting feeling having melted in my stomach. I just needed to hurry, free the slaves that were kept in the rooms below, grab Hawke and leave.

"This way," I called to Fenris. I pulled a door open and began to sprint down the stairs.

"Fen' Harel wait," he said, grasping my wrist and allowing me guide him.

It stank down there of too many bodies packed into small spaces. It was easy enough to dispatch the guards. There were only two because obviously no one was expecting any trouble. I found the blade in the lining of my coat again, and muffling his mouth with my hand I sliced his throat quickly. The other guard just managed to notice my presence before Fenris tore out his heart. It fell silent when we reached the bottom, all shuffling halted, as the elves tried to make out if we were guards in the gloom.

"How many of them are there?" Fenris snarled as he registered the hundreds of pairs of eyes staring back at us.

"Half the Alienage in Mercia," I answered quickly as I hurried to open the locks.

When I reached for Sofia, the elves began to whimper and withdraw.

"It's okay," I said, trying to mimic the voice Hawke used when he tried to soothe people, "We're getting you out, I promise."

Me and Fenris immediately began breaking the locks, opting to use pure force rather than skill like Varric.

Someone called my real name and I tried to ignore them.

"I remember you," one of the older elf pushed, his way forward, "they said you and your brother died."

I recalled the face slightly; I'd seen him before talking to my mother.

"Tainen?" I asked, trying to place a name to a face.

"It is you," he beamed, a glimmer of hope sparking in his eyes. Part of him must have still thought this was a trick.

"Why are you here? What's happening?" he asked pressing himself up against the bars.

"It's alot to explain," I said still trying to force the lock open and growing increasingly irritated with it.

"We knew he was selling to the Trevinter but..." Tainen trailed off.

People began crowding around him, probing him for questions because he was the only one among them who seemed to know what was happening and right now they needed a leader. Suddenly the room was thrumming with excited voices and people pressing against the bars. I was losing control of the situation; they needed to shut up or...

"What the..."

I spun round.

And found myself staring at my father.

"Oh shit."

A/N:

:O

That's how I picture Fen' Harel's face at that point. I hoped you liked the chapter ;D

Please reviews even if they're really horrible and make me cry while listening to REM albums...even though I'd prefer not to have those ones.

THANKS FOR READING!


	18. awkward

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Awkward...

"Hawke, how long is this going take?" Anders asked at his elbow, "I've really got to get back to the clinic."

"How ever long Fen' Harel'll take," Hawke replied. They had been seated ten minutes ago but the Bann and his wife were yet to make an appearance. He was growing anxious for Fen' Harel and Fenris, they'd been gone for awhile now.

"Oh, with Fenris I think she'll be awhile," Isabella smirked.

What ever Varric was about to add onto that statement was interrupted by a sudden swelling of noise as the Lady Evermore and the Bann entered the hall.

Immediately the Lady seated herself at the centre of the head table, waving away any compliments or introductions with a polite smile. She was undoubtedly Orlesian, that small, delicate Orlesian frame holding up the largest and most extravagant dress in the room, which in itself wasn't a small achievement. Her face like her body was tiny and fragile; two large deep brown eyes gave her an overall doll like appearance.

While Lady Evermore was welcomed with excitement, a sudden silence fell when Bann Wulfhere entered the room. He was a tall man, built like an archer with his long body and leanly muscled limbs. Hawke was momentarily shocked at the similarity between him and Fen' Harel. The same large lips, strong jaw which appeared more feminine in her face, the same buttony end to his nose and those same blue eyes, though smaller sat in his head. Those strong Fereldan features seemed mismatched with his delicate Orlesian wife.

However it wasn't the Bann that the guests were staring at but something he was pulling behind him. Hawke and Anders rose form their chairs to gain a better view.

"Is that..." Anders didn't finish his sentence.

The Bann was dragging a terrified looking Fen' Harel behind him. She was struggling to break free and hide her face from the staring eyes. Hawke had never seen her so scared, sickly pale with her eyes darting everywhere for an escape. He was reminded of a fox caught in a trap.

"Quickly we need to do something," he spoke urgently turning to Anders who matched his frantic eyes.

"Please, my lord, please I still need to serve drinks," Fen' Harel protested in her sweetest innocent voice.

A guest to the right of Hawke began to laugh throatily, "It seems the Bann's taken a fancy to one of the servants tonight."

"At least one of us will be getting some action tonight," his friend muttered darkly.

"That's only because your wife happens to be the most frigid woman in Thedas," the first laughed.

"Piss off," he replied which only made his friend laugh louder.

"Clever little wolf," Anders whispered with an unexpected sigh of relief.

"At least I don't sleep with knife ears," the man continued grumbling.

To which his good natured friend replied, "Ah, Wulfhere's always had a thing for them; remember that elf he used to have running around the castle and those children, the two little half breeds."

The other made a disgusted sound in his throat, "It's bloody shameful if you ask me. I tell you if..."

But he never got finish that sentence because at that moment Lady Evermore rose from her seat with another patient smile.

"Please excuse my husband; I think he may have been too eager with the wine. Allow him to retire to his room for rest" she explained politely, "By all means continue without us."

After the speech she slid her hand through her husbands arm and began to lead both Fen' Harel and her father towards a door and away from the watching crowd.

"Hawke," Fenris whispered to the mage, seeming to appear from nowhere, "where's Fen' Harel? What happened?"

"She and her father are in that room, where are the slaves?

"I took them through the back exit and told them to wait there," he glanced suspiciously at the closed door as if it were a coiled snake.

"What do we do now?" Merrill asked urgently.

"We go get Fen' Harel," Hawke said.

"Maker, I hate family reunions," Varric groaned.

Fen' Harel's POV: 

It was quiet now.

Quiet for just a moment, after Lady Evermore closed the noise and heat out, like the silence immediately after a leap.

"Elizabeth," father called to the Lady Evermore, "she's alive, look she's alive."  
>He was almost crying with relief, the emotion raw in his voice. He'd always been gentle, while my mother had been the one to scold me; my father had always been the comfort. He was the one who held my hand when I was scared and woke at five in the morning to take me and James riding. And the one who handed a disbelieving teenager over to the Templars one winter night. It felt as though someone was ripping my heart open.<p>

"Hush now Wulfhere, who's alive? What are you talking about?" she chided as if he were a small child and motioned for him to seat down.

Almost invisible now to her despite my father's vice like grip I studied the room, searching for an exit, a door, a window, anything. I seemed to be in a study, paintings of Mercia littering the walls and letters scattered over a desk, a fireplace smouldered quietly in one corner.

"My daughter! She's alive Elizabeth," he pleaded.

"Stop it Wulfhere, how many times will this happen before you realize she's dead," Lady Evermore sighed and suddenly her perfect face seemed old and tired, "She drowned at sea. Or will the Templars have to fish out a corpse before you stop ruining parties with these stupid games."

But my father was adamant.

"This time it is her. I swear," he protested against his wife's sympathy.

She approached me and began ushering me towards the door.

"Leave before you do anymore damage," she reprimanded me, "and speak of this to no..."

The coin dropped from her hand as her eyes finally rested on my face and I felt as though I was being examined by the Maker himself.

"Sweet Andraste," she breathed.

"I told you," my father began, filling with energy again at his triumph, "It's her Elizabeth, she came back to us."

"Well this is awkward," I laughed uncomfortably, in full view of Lady Evermore's disbelieving face, and began edging towards to door.

I just wanted to leave before he started ripping up the new life that had planted itself safely. I didn't want to get emotional.

"She needs to go," Lady Evermore whispered, "she'll ruin everything, she needs to go."

"My sentiments exactly," I said, "So I'll just be leaving."

"You look so different," my father rushed completely ignoring both mine and his wife's protestations, "You've grown so much."

"Yeah, there's nothing like killing mages and obeying Templar demands to bring on sudden growth spurts," I said bitterly.

And it was out there.

"Oh," Bann Wulfhere made a noise as if someone had stabbed him in the back which was quite ironic considering he had betrayed me.

"You always wanted me to be tall, father but that method seemed a bit drastic didn't it?" I laughed to myself bitterly.

I felt, more than saw Hawke and the others slip into the room but decided to ignore them far more occupied with the situation at hand.

"I said she should have gone," Lady Evermore said shaking her head to herself softly.

"I deserve that," Bann Wulfhere resolved, brave face on.

"No, you deserve a dagger in the heart," I growled, all the bitterness, anger and betrayal that had built up over the years after that day, beginning to spill out in strong, steady waves. The Bann's face fell, all the bravery sweeping off in one quick downward stroke.

"Or maybe I should tie you're hands and feet and leave you to the mercy of those slaves you were going to sell off to the Trevinter because the previous group are probably all cold dead on some sacrificial chamber somewhere," I suggested.

"Mercia's starving, I had no choice. This way only the Alienage suffers, it was the only way to save lives," he pleaded stepping back now as he came to the realization that I wasn't his little girl anymore. That I was in fact armed and feeling particularly vengeful. That violent cold streak had been busy festering and being bred under the Templar's watchful eyes, eyes he had put me under. I wanted to cause some real damage to him. For every person he hurt, for every one of those elves that had died bleeding, alone and somewhere cold without an ounce of mercy. For my brother, who had probably been the one performing the ritual.

"They weren't you're lives to give," I growled kicking sharply at his knees so that he buckled to the floor.

Lady Evermore yelped and moved instinctively towards her husband but rapidly I drew Sofia and held it eye level with her.

"Get back," I said steadily. She shrank away from the sharp edge of the blade instead watching me with fearful eyes.

With a sigh, I drooped slightly. Conflicting emotions, I wanted to do this, I didn't want to do this, every image and memory was attacked by a conflicting one. Could I kill my own father? Fifteen and a cold morning in Mercia, father conferred with the Templars and I stood nearby. This was it, James was coming home, he'd promised, I tried to see him but there were too many people in the courtyard. Then the Templar's hands on me, the freezing metal of their gauntlets biting through my thin cape. Confused I looked back at my father, but he couldn't meet my eyes, he couldn't even look at me.

And suddenly it felt final; as if this was the only option there had ever been and ever would be. With a breath, I heaved Sofia onto my shoulder and began to pace back to my father. He looked straight ahead, as if he knew this would happen, as if he had always known. Gently I placed the familiar blade against a familiar neck.

"Fen' Harel," Hawke said softly catching the blade.

I shrugged him off.

"Fen' Harel, no" he said sharply, that iron creeping back in again, "you don't have to do this."

His words were like a release. Lowering Sofia, I nodded to him.

"You're right Hawke," I whispered, a slightly tense laugh escaping my lips, "lost myself abit back there."

Fiercely I kicked Bann Wulfhere square in the back.

"If you trade with the Trevinter again," I hissed to him, "After slaughtering them I'll be back for you."

Weeping Lady Evermore ran to him and turning my back on them all I left with Hawke.

I sat on the steps of Hawke's mansion while he organized the slaves with money and a boats passage. Merrill and Anders were attending to burn injuries and occasionally throwing me sympathetic glances, while Isabella and Varric sat either side of me and Fenris stood nearby.

"You okay Princess?"Varric asked.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," I said rising to my feet and strolling off.

I didn't want to be there right now. Not because I was upset or I was going to cry. That was the strange thing. I didn't feel upset at all, just slightly empty and tired like I'd been awake for days. But no remorse, no longing for the way things had been. I didn't care about that life. It was all just ghosts now, things I could see but couldn't feel. That's when I started smiling to myself, for every new memory, for every brotherly moment with Carver or Hawke, for every night spent laughing in the Hanged Man, for the feel of Fenris' lips. I wasn't sad at all, I was ecstatic. Screw Bann Wulfhere and screw the Templars. I was free of them both.

"Fen' Harel, are you okay?" Hawke asked concerned. My feet must have made their way back home.

"Yeah," I smiled lopsidedly, "Let's go to the Hanged man."

A/N:

THANKS FOR READING...X)


	19. Don't mention the S word

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Don't mention the S word.

"Suck my imaginary dick Varric," I grinned widely as I sunk the blade into the wood of the table.

"Fen' Harel, an example of a perfect Gentlewoman," Varric pouted as he threw yet more coins on the growing pile.

"Varric, don't say things like that you might hurt her feelings," Merrill protested hugging my shoulders. I was too pissed or comfortable with her now to care.

"Oh, my heart bleeds Varric, you've wounded me so."

"Andraste's tits Princess I doubt I'd offend you if I kicked the living daylights out of you," he sipped from the tankard with that flourish of his that made everything look like easy and impressive, "actually you'd probably get up laughing."

"She might even thank you," Anders added unenthusiastically.

Hawke chuckled.

"You're a different matter, Hawke," Anders said, "who could beat that face?"

"Strong, brave, noble...," Varric began in his story telling voice.

"A bit dopey," I grimaced.

"...A bit dopey," Varric finished, "but enough talk about Hawke's rugged good looks, I want to win my money back."

"Bring it dwarf," I smirked.

"Blondie you in? Merrill? Hawke?" Varric asked each member of the table in turn, eliciting a few coins from each.

"Piece of cake," I said raising the tankard to my lips. It was my third and I was slightly tipsy but blissfully content with them all nonetheless.

"Aha, not this time Princess, this time you drink the real stuff," Varric produced a bottle from his coat. I peered through the tarnished glass and the thick liquid inside, and raised the neck to my nose.

"It smells lethal," I frowned at the liquid holding it as far away from my nose as humanly possible.

"Well, if you're not up to the challenge," Varric said, the bottle disappearing back onto his coat.

"No, no, merely an observation," I said snatching the bottle back and taking it down in quick gulps.

It felt like a kick to the head, I swear my guts were rotting.

"I think I may be drunk," I managed unsteadily. I retrieved the knife from the table with great difficultly because my brain and my body didn't seem too to be working to together. I raised the knife above my splayed hand ready to make it dart nimbly through the spaces between my fingers.

"Urghh, evil little dwarf," I groaned the next morning. All I could remember was Varric handing out those toxic little bottles to everyone else and an incident with a boat. Maker, I hoped we hadn't shipped Merrill off to some island in a dingy.

There was a knock at my door, and stumbling from my bed I reached out to open it.

"Oh, shit," I muttered when I noticed all the cuts decorating my fingers, "evil, _evil_ little dwarf."

"Fen' Harel?" Hawke called nervously from the other side of the door.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked kicked some unidentified object from the doorway.

"No, you can just be slightly...aggressive in the mornings."

I checked the window.

"It's not morning, all is well with my anger levels," I replied opening the door after dressing.

"So what're we up to today?" I asked.

I waited outside for Hawke and Anders, watching the shadows stretch in the Kirkwall heat.

"Do we have to be here?" Fenris grouched.

"Five minutes," Isabella said triumphantly, "you make that five minutes don't you Varric?"

"Five minutes till what?" Fenris asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Five minutes until you said something grouchy."

I laughed and Merrill stifled a giggle. Fenris turned to glare at me, but ended up smirking himself. We hadn't spoken about what had happened at the ball, that moment when something had lapsed; it was another thing we avoided. Even though it kept me up all night.

"Sadistic bitch," he muttered at me.

"Theatrical bastard," I muttered back.

"Oh Maker," Varric groaned as Anders and Hawke came running from the building, papers stuffed under arms and in pockets. We waited for them to go past, rolling our eyes at one another before sprinting behind them. Isabella lazily flung a smoke bomb behind her as we raced to safety up the pathway to Saundermount.

"Isabella, are they still there?" Hawke asked as we hid behind a large outcrop of rocks.

Isabella shrugged.

"What was so important anyway?" Varric asked.

"Important documents, they include details about Templar security in the Circle," Anders answered stroking the documents like they were new born babies.

"Maker," Fenris groaned, both mages decided to ignore him.

"You! Hand over the slave!"

We all turned. A tiny army or alternatively a huge bodyguard were watching us, weapons drawn in anticipation from a hill opposite.

"Where did they spring from?" I asked frowning at them in confusion.

Isabella shrugged.

Fenris was so tense; I could practically feel the tight ball in his stomach just by sitting next to him. He glanced to Hawke for a moment, unsure of himself. I guess it was an old situation in a setting for him.

"He's no slave," Hawke called fiercely, unleashing a fireball into their ranks. It tore several from their feet and scattered the ranks. The captain only had a few minutes to recollect his thoughts and order the charge before we were upon him.

Sofia, bleeding black fire in my grip sliced upwards across the first and slackening into chain form I stuck the blade in deep. Fenris was at my back, acting almost as a shield with his large, powerful swipes. Curling the chain around my hand I whipped it into the throat of one slaver that was approaching Fenris. With quick, slick movements Sofia was then sent swinging across another line of slavers and mercenaries. She was built for this. Too caught up in the fight I hardly noticed the Magister skulking around the edges of the struggle until I was flung from my feet, the left side of my body connecting with a boulder.

Pulling myself to my feet, my eyes narrowed searching for the culprit and locked onto him, marking out from the rest. Moving fast, I batted away a fireball with Sofia and leapt over a wall of ice to reach him. The Magister made a startled noise in the back of his throat as I grasped him by the throat. They're easier ways of killing mages. I hadn't spent years with the Templars and infused with Black Lyrium to learn nothing. A shadow passed over my eyes, blackness engulfing them for a moment. My hand gripping the Magister he began to cough and splutter eyes wide with sudden panic. I dropped the body, it's once royal blue veins replaced with ink. Black Lyrium is poisonous to mages, so was I apparently.

Hawke was just finishing up anyway, so I straightened up to check the damage when I caught sight of Fenris striding past me, face contorted with rage. He gripped a survivor's hair roughly with one clawed gauntlet, all the pain and fatigue on the man's face was hastily replaced by sheer panic.

"Where is he?" Fenris growled in his ear.

I started walking towards him but stopped, unsure what to do and instead just watched.

The man didn't answer or just muttered a negative because Fenris suddenly slammed his head into the ground and lifted it back up centimetres from his face. It was strange from this distance, I couldn't hear what was being said as Fenris disgustedly threw the man down and turned to Hawke. It was like watching the scene from someone else's eyes. Fenris talked urgently with Hawke, pacing almost with some pent up emotion. Hawke watched him with patient eyes before sadly shaking his head and trying to reason with a now shouting Fenris. Furious or frustrated Fenris turned angrily pulling his sword from the stomach of a slaver. He caught sight of me and paused, just watching with an open almost pleading look.

"Fenris," I said, after retrieving my weapon and jogging over, "What's wrong, what's happening?"

He had a frustrated growl in the back of his throat, "There's a slaver den, Darius is there and if we don't go now I might not have this chance again."

"Fenris, I want to go, I do but we need to get these documents back to Kirkwall," Hawke pleaded, "They're already damaged after the fight as it is."

Fenris made a disgusted sound and began to curse Hawke in a foreign Language. I caught accursed son of a diseased whore in Dalish, to which I replied lay off Leandra or I may beat you with a pointy stick in the same tongue while Merrill looked at him appalled. He paused before continuing his enraged rant.

"Well why don't I go with Fenris while you drop them off at mage HQ and you can run back and meet us?" I suggested, remembering how Fenris had sprinted after me at Bann Wulfhere's ball.

"Sounds good, let's go," Anders said eager to be off.

Hawke looked to Fenris, who had stopped calling Hawke every name under the sun, for confirmation.

"Enough talk, let's go," he snarled looking fervently at what I guessed was the location of the slavers den.

"I'm going stay here with my two favourite people," Isabella said sliding between us and patting both our asses lightly, "They might let me join in."

Me and Fenris exchanged a startled glance.

"Hawke take her please," Fenris said escaping Isabella's grasp.

"Maybe later," I winked at her as I turned to follow Fenris.

"Promises, Fen' Harel, so many promises," she called after me and I laughed.

"You shouldn't encourage her," Fenris grumbled breaking into a run, smirking to myself I followed.

A/N:

There we go, another chapter. I hoped you liked it :D


	20. Fenris really doesn't like Magisters

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Fenris really doesn't like Magisters.

"How many can you see?" I asked Fenris, peering over the rock at the assembly of slavers and magisters.

"Two magisters, and about twenty slavers," he replied.

"Oh, we can take that," I said tightening my gauntlets and pulling Sofia to my side.

"No doubt," he growled, pulling his sword from his back, "I'll get in the middle and you take them down from the sides."

At that Fenris launched himself over the rock and sweeped the first wave with his great sword, no euphemism intended.

Running low, I began to pick them off from behind as Fenris became their main focus. Starting with the Magister who was already summoning, using Sofia's chain I pulled his legs from under him I dug the weapon now in spear from deep into his throat. Prowling around the back, I promptly dispatched the slavers from behind, piercing guts, opening stomachs and sending Sofia spiralling into anyone who was about to sink a blade into Fenris' back.

He decapitated the last of them and immediately continued to sprint towards the cave mouth of the slaver's den.

Fenris' POV:

I peered into the slaver's den, urgently wanting to run inside and seize Darius before he could escape again. I'd spent so long waiting. I don't think I could stand it anymore.

"You ready?" Fen' Harel breathed at my right, trying to see into the murky darkness.

I glanced across at her, she was right there, she always was. This time I didn't have to do it alone. I nodded once and steeped back into hell.

The first thing you always notice is the smell, a stale metallic reek that sets your stomach on edge. Fen' Harel gagged.

"Is that...blood," she asked eyes darting around the room for the stench's source.

"Blood magic," I snarled, coiled and almost waiting for something to leap from the shadows. Paranoia was busy murmuring away in my head.

"We better hurry," she said gripping Sofia, "before Darius makes another disappearing act."

I nodded and we began running through the winding maze of dimly lit corridors.

We both stopped in the next room, momentarily frozen by the object at the centre of the room. It was a sacrificial table, a memento to my marking. Images began to flood my head, hazy and pain filled like some horrifying nightmare. Instinctively I bought a hand to my throat, as the Lyrium began throb and burn with the recollection.

Fen' Harel paced forward and ran one armoured hand along the stone, pausing where the hands were bound to the table. It seemed in that moment that my brain seemed to devour the image and arrest it, burrowing it away in my head to just float at the surface. Fen' Harel in a dark room, somewhere underground, her hand just resting on the place so similar to where we'd both been bound. Her back half to me with her face just turned to me so her oblivion hair was draped across her shoulder. Then she saw me and that lost, almost drowned look melting into a gentle smile and the life flicking back into her eyes. My heart constricted slightly.

"I have the strange urge to stick Anders on this," she smiled vindictively.

"Don't tempt me," I said mimicking her malevolent, playful grin.

"Do you think Hawke'd be angry if we sacrificed Anders?" she asked with a thoughtful look.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Not even if we did it nicely?"

"No of course he wouldn't mind then," I said drily.

"Your sarcasm cuts me, your eternal broodiness," she smirked with a quick flourish.

I was just about to retort when Hawke and the others came running into the room seeming mildly relieved when he realised that both of us were unharmed. They must have rushed back to arrive so early but then again me and Fen' Harel had dealt with the guards on our way to the rule.

"What are you two up to?" Anders asked frowning at us with suspicion.

"Plotting you're downfall," I said.

"You always seem to be doing that," Anders muttered.

"Hey, we haven't got much else to do," Fen' Harel smiled.

Anders just sighed and began to walk off with Hawke at his side and the others trailing behind him.

I found my eyes drawn once again to the stone table.

"Come on," Fen' Harel said soberly taking my hand and tugging me from the room after the others, "we need to keep moving if we stay here too long we'll get stuck here."

I wasn't sure if she was talking about the room or the memories lingering there but I followed nonetheless because it felt like the only right thing to do.

Fen' Harel's POV:

"You promised her," Hawke shouted clearly appalled.

Fenris didn't answer; he just stared down at the husk that had once contained a human as if a corpse was an entirely new prospect to him. Suddenly he snapped back to reality, back straightening that twisted hateful expression slashed across his face again.

He spat on the ground.

"That's how much that promise meant to me," he raged.

Hawke didn't even blink in full view of Fenris' furious face. Shaking Fenris seemed to shift, from contorted anger to a vulnerable, almost bewildered, wounded look that made my heart bleed.

"I, I can't do this," he almost whispered, the pain so evident it hurt to see him like this. Then he left.

"Fenris," I said stepping forward wanting to go after him but stopping because I wanted to give him the privacy he'd asked for. Completely unsure and useless my toe edged forward.

"Don't," Anders said softly, gently gripping my arm, a gesture I had not expected from the mage.

"Let's go back to home," Hawke said sounding equally defeated.

When we got back I couldn't rest.

I was too busy thinking about Fenris. Someone who kept creeping unbidden into my thoughts anyway but this time I couldn't stubbornly banish them as quickly as I could and scold myself because worry was eating away at me. I found myself pacing, filled with the need to do something but unable to at the same time, thousands of scenario playing through my head each worse than the one before it. I couldn't lie to myself this time.

I worried about Fenris much more than I should because I cared about Fenris much more than I should.

I could feel it, this unidentifiable thing that was moving slowly but with purpose. Stitching me to Fenris with each touch and look until it would have burrowed too far in and be lodged there forever. Seeming that I didn't want but found myself unable to escape and wishing more and more fervently for what I knew would be my downfall. Because I had seen it at work before, seen it tear my parents apart from the inside, and it kills slowly with each soft, barbed kiss.

Yet time spent with Fenris was quickly becoming addictive. I trusted him more than I did anyone else, something I found difficult but convened in people. I felt strangely protected with him, sheltered from dark thoughts that sometimes waited in the wings but that wasn't it entirely. There was just something about the way I seemed when Fenris was there, the world and I felt lighter.

Sitting there trying to untangle the mess that had become my head and heart there was a knock at the door. Swinging my legs from the chair I went to answer the door just as Hawke emerged from studying the stolen documents in the liberty.

"Fenris," I said as the door was pulled open to reveal the now slightly embarrassed warrior.

"Is Hawke here?" he asked trying his best not to look me in the eye.

I gestured towards Hawke who was now standing, slightly shocked in the centre of the main room.

"Are you okay? I was worried," I whispered to him. He flinched slightly at my words but only nodded in response.

I fled to the library, closing the door partially so I could still see them. I knew I shouldn't be spying but I couldn't resist the temptation.

"I've been thinking about what happened with Hadrina. I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so, I was not myself I'm sorry," Fenris began slightly stilted.

"There's no need to apologize."

"You are generous. When I was still a slave, Hadrina was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status I was powerless to respond and she knew it," he finished eyes furrowing, "the thought of her slipping out of my grasp now- I couldn't let her go. I wanted to but I couldn't."

With a sinking sensation, I recognized the feeling from the ball, except this time Hawke wasn't able to intervene.

"That's more important than you're promise?" Hawke questioned

"It's not easy to discover your principles are less noble than you believed," Fenris countered, "This hate..I thought I'd gotten away from it. But it dogs me not matter where I go. To feel it again to know it was they that planted it inside me...it was too much to bear."

"Hah," he said breaking away from Hawke, "I didn't come here to burden you further."

"We're friends Fenris," Hawke smiled.

"I'm not certain I know what that is," he muttered and left.

Hawke sighed deeply staring at the fire awhile like a parent who didn't understand his children.

"I'm going to Ander's clinic to deliver the papers," he called to me and left.

Suddenly very tired, I turned to lean my head against the cool wood of the door. Something caught my eye on Hawke's desk and leaning over to investigate I realized that he'd left his papers.

"Hawke?" I asked the silent room.

The clinic felt odd empty, far too big and quiet.

"Hawke?" I almost whispered.

I searched the room slowly, and then began to pull the doors open. In a last ditch effort I pushed the door the Anders' living area open.

"Oh."

A/N: 

I promise you that the impending Fen- Fen romance is almost here. I'll leave your able imagination to think about what Hawke and Anders were up to in that room ;D but I'm pretty sure Fen' Harel didn't expect it.

Thank you for reading and reviewing, I love you all in a non stalker way =3


	21. Oh Maker

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Oh Maker.

"Do you know what I don't get about you two?" I asked the now slightly embarrassed Hawke over my cup of tea. Anders had hurriedly got dressed, poured us all tea and sat us down at the table in his clinic.

"What?" Anders sighed.

"What if Justice is homophobic does he just have to watch?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Okay what if you love Hawke but Justice really, really hates him, what happens then? Do you just start strangling him to death in the middle of a kiss?"

Hawke just looked up at me with a look that purely embodied the word "stop."

"Okay, okay," I smiled rising from my chair with a smile, "I get it you want to be alone. I just came to drop the documents off."

"Thank you Fen' Harel," Hawke smiled weakly while Anders busied himself in the kitchen, "This'll probably take awhile I won't be home tonight maybe not tomorrow either."

"What might take long? The documents or Anders?"

"Goodbye Fen' Harel," he warned.

"Bye Hawke," I smiled lopsidedly.

Meandering through the heaving poverty of Dark town, I found my mind not occupied by Hawke and Anders but pulled back to thoughts of Fenris. He haunted by thoughts, his face outside the Deep Roads bathed in moonlight, with the stolen kiss in the corridor making my heart race. He was steadily becoming an obsession, different from the others, he pit me at war with myself. A fight I was certain to lose either way. With one hand on Sofia's hilt and the other just touching my lips I made my way home.

"That was slightly awkward," Hawke breathed as Fen' Harel left.

"I'd be more worried about Fenris," Anders sighed heavily, "Fen' Harel loves you too much to judge but Fenris won't be able to stop himself..."

Hawke stayed silent.

"Pair of wolves," Anders muttered bitterly then he straightened up and looked to Hawke with gentle, love drowned eyes, "I don't want to talk about them, I don't want to talk about anything."

Hawke smiled, the shadows underneath his eyes disappearing momentarily.

"Thank you Anders," he said tenderly, "Thank you for always being there."

"Thank you for saving me," Anders breathed in reply as Hawke drew him into a kiss as soft as a whisper.

Fenris' POV:

I couldn't sleep again.

Turning and tossing in the sheets, pounding the pillow beneath my hand and throwing the sheets aside in frustration, I lay panting in the darkness. The thoughts that I'd been desperately trying to chase away finally picked at me in my moment of weakness. 

It was Fen' Harel.

Bastarding Fen' Harel again.

Someone was plaguing me relentlessly with her image until I was certain it'd drive me slowly insane.

"Damn it," I growled in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling.

Descending upon me, the images crept, her lips against mine, laughing along with me and finally that drenched image of her in the sacrificial chamber in the abandoned slavers den. Almost like an overused painting that was frayed by now at the edges, my mind regurgitated the picture again. It was proof to me, that I wasn't alone in that room.

And with her strange blue eyes flickering at my mind something broke. I was tired of fighting. I got up, got dressed and fled the empty house.

Fen' Harel's POV:

"Fenris?" I asked slightly startled to see him there in the centre of the library when I returned home to a supposedly empty house. Leandra was away with several other of the noble families in Kirkwall, taking Sandal and Bohdann as escorts. Fenris was the last person I'd expect to see in the middle of the library.

"I've been thinking of you, in fact I've been unable to think of little else. Command me to go and I shall," he said, striding forward so he was mere centimetres from my face, looking reproachfully down at me. A breath caught me my throat at the memory of his kiss in a deserted hallway, and the prospect that he cared. It seemed so important that he should.

Leaning forward, I half smiled, holding those lighted green eyes for as long as I can. I raised my lips to his ear.

This was it. The fierce destruction of every wall or chain we'd built to keep ourselves in place.

"Please don't."

And it burst, breaking open, spilling over me.

Fenris turned abruptly, catching and crushing my lips against his own. Coiling an arm around his shoulders I pulled him down, closer, as his tongue began to twine with my own. He shook a gauntlet from his hand and raked it upwards through my hair as he deepened the kiss. I felt like dying. Almost buzzing from the electricity that seemed to be pulsing deeply under my skin, especially my breasts and the area between my legs, I began to claw softly at the nape of his neck and pulled at his lip softly with my teeth as he broke the kiss.

Something was burning behind his eyes, something that made my skin tingle and burn with it. He pushed me against the door and I laughed breathily to him fumbling for the doorknob as his weight pressed against me again. Fenris was tugging at my clothes roughly trying to detach them from my skin by any means possible as he bit deeply into my neck, delicious and pleasantly painful, shivers shot up my back with a sharp intake of breath. Allowing my hands to glide across his own skin, undoing buckles and ridding him of leather, I began nip and kiss his neck and tug playfully at his ear, all of which elicited a frustrated growl from Fenris, stirring and music to my ears.

"Always teasing," rumbled against my skin.

"Always so rough," I smirked in reply, running my teeth down the soft skin of his neck as the door finally opened. He groaned again in reply and I felt fervour knowing that I was undoing him so much.

He found my lips again as we stumbled towards the bed, gripping my neck and jaw with one hand as the other clutched at my trousers, running over my leg underneath. Thrilling with pleasure and desperate with want, I returned the kiss, each one long, slow and frustratingly filled with yearning. It was there again, the clash of the tenderness and forcefulness, mashing and merging together at the middle.

Finally managing to discard Fenris' top, I threw it aside and began to slide a hand of his skin, feeling each grove and muscle on the lean expanse of skin. I smiled, taking pleasure in the way his hot skin shivered and loosened under my touch. Fenris growled against my lips and I laughed lightly into the kiss.

Pushing me onto the bed, I didn't give him a moment as I began to lick, kiss and nip his bare chest. Fenris growled loudly in delicious frustration under the mounting pressure as I moved slower downwards. I kissed and bit the skin lightly above his trouser line and on his slender hips, paying attention to the area above his penis, he released deep moan, unravelling.

"Not so tough now are we?" I teased, the sound of his moan rousing and encouraging me further.

The movement however allowed him to pull my own top off and almost instantly Fenris' calloused hands were gliding over the flesh off my stomach. I froze, the sensation creating the same warm shiver. Almost tearing off my bra, Fenris cupped my naked breasts, squeezing, pressing and kneading them roughly, thumbs massaging over the nipple. A sigh escaped my lips, a breath that swooned my lips as my stomach melted into liquid fire.

Aggravated that he had the upper hand, I let my hand run down his stomach, rising and falling with the contours of his skin, and crept into his pants. My tongue slid down his neck as I held his penis, feeling its length and toying with him mercilessly. Fenris moaned, trying to muffle the sound against the skin of my stomach.

"No more teasing Fen' Harel," he breathed heavily, pulling my hands over head and planting them the sheet, the pressure of his hands light against my wrists.

"But I like teasing you," I protested in a shaky whisper.

My body was beginning to tremble desperately, urgent for a release from the pressure that Fenris had built into me. Desperate for him, wanting him urgently I felt myself coiling tighter.

I tried to move my hands to tug at his pants but Fenris held them there, instead gripping both with one hand and removing his trousers himself. He ripped my trousers from me and looked up, staring me straight in the face, green eyes looking intently into blue eyes as if asking for if this is what I wanted, if we should take the leap together. In reply I moved my now moist hips towards him and with a thrust me slide in.

Moving our hips together, we fought against the now almost unbearable mounting pressure. I loosened, pulled tight, loosened as my body began to flicker and burn from the inside. One hand screwed up in bed sheets and one gripping Fenris' urgently, I sighed and moaned his name as he buried his own groans into my neck. And just when I couldn't take this slow winding anymore, when I wasn't completely sure what anything was anymore in that hot mess and I was slightly convinced that I might be dying a seductive death, I came shortly after Fenris.

Delicious oblivion.

Pure pleasure rolled over my body in waves, showing me that I was more than alive in all its sweet brilliance. The Maker had opened his arms to me. Fenris lying atop me, still inside me, I kissed his neck gently as he nuzzled his nose against my collarbone. I'd never felt so alive in my entire life. I prayed it lasted forever.

...

I awoke to find an unexpected empty space in the bed next to me and was momentarily thrown of balance. I was about to call Fenris' name when I noticed him standing my windowsill, absently turning a piece of glass that hung in the space.

"Fenris?" I asked, confused.

He turned startled.

"Maker, I was that bad?" I winced.

"I'm sorry, it's not...it was fine," he struggled seeming more ill at ease than I had seen him.

"Seriously if it was closer to bestiary just tell me," I smiled trying to ignore the foreboding, sinking feeling in my stomach.

He smirked then shook his head, turning to face me.

"No. That is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed," he said.

Almost beaming with the compliment, I still couldn't shake the sensation that something was wrong.

"Don't you usually dream about murdering Magisters?" I asked with a lopsided smile.

"What's wrong?" I asked then, just wishing for an answer rather than this horrible feeling.

"I began to remember," He paced away and growing frustrated, "my life before. Just flashes. It's too much. This is too fast. I cannot... do this."

Maker that hurt.

I felt used. I had no intention of a romance just something other than this, other than a story and a cold bed. I couldn't look at him. In end it always hurt.

"Oh," I smiled hollowly, "I see."

"I swear, this isn't a lie," Fenris said, stepping forward but pausing when I didn't seem to react.

I believed him, I couldn't do otherwise.

He turned back to the window.

"To have it all come back in a rush, then to lose it," Fenris paused, pain lacing his face.

"I can't," he pleaded, "I can't."

"Its fine Fenris," I breathed with a smile that I prayed hid my real feelings from him, "I'm fine. If this is all it is..."

"I'm sorry, I feel like such a fool," he said desolately.

"All I wanted was to be happy...just for a little while. Forgive me." 

He left.

Leaving me feeling blank.

I sat there awhile, unsure what to do, what to think and how I felt. Suddenly rising, I dashed to get dressed pulling clothes over the skin he had caressed moments ago.

I was filled with the urge to fill the hole he'd torn open. To convince myself that it had been just sex and I should keep moving. Forget, erase everything.

I wanted desperately to persuade myself that it was nothing and I felt nothing about it.

By any means possible.

A/N:

I hate that bit in DA 2. When Hawke's just left in the bed watching him go :'( but oh well, hoped you liked ;) that was my first lemony bit so I'd really like some reviews please...as always I guess. Oh and about Anders and Hawke, I like that as a couple as well because I see them both as hopeless romantics I guess. I always had Anders and Hawke being together in my head because it fit in with the story but I wanted Anders to be the one to comfort Hawke after Isabella.


	22. Those three dreaded words

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Those three dreaded words, the morning after.

Fenris' POV:

"She's over there, been drinking on and off all day. We couldn't find Hawke and Daisy has been trying to stop her all day but...," Varric shrugged his shoulders.

It was the night after I'd been with Fen' Harel, the memory of it still clinging to me like a dream after waking. I had stayed outside her house for an hour afterwards, trying to think again of something that wasn't Fen' Harel's broken smile afterwards. While I'd spent the day, stewing in my self- loathing, Fen' Harel had been busy and it seemed that Varric had asked me of all people to help deal with the fallout. I had come of course, even though I knew that I probably shouldn't have. Of course I came, I couldn't pissing stay away.

"Why didn't you try stopping her yourselves?" I demanded glaring at Isabella in particular.

"Because it's fun watching her try to bed half the Hanged man," she smirked devilishly, "it also happens to be the half I'm in."

"We've already talked about this Rivaini," Varric said, "It's already awkward enough with you and Hawke. Afterwards you'll have to look Fen' Harel in the eye too."  
>"Trust me," she smiled seductively, keeping one eye on Fen' Harel, "I wouldn't be looking at her eyes."<p>

I followed her line of sight to a nearby table crammed with rowdy drinkers, each hand either grasping a tankard or clawing for any available piece of Fen' Harel's skin. She was laughing and cheering with the drinkers, raised up to stand on the centre of their table with just her pants covering the lower half of her body. She accepted the alcohol thrust at her and drank it down hungrily.

"Another," she shouted down to the leering crowd, ignoring Merrill as she darted about the table, pleading for her to stop drinking and come down.

The crowd cheered in response and began to thump the table, lean forward keenly.

"Top or bottom?" she called above the noise.

"Top," they shouted.

Slowly she tore her top over her head, revealing her bare skin. Cheering and singing drunkenly with her audience as she spun and stretched her curves for their enjoyment. One tried to grope her breast, only covered now by the material of her bra, and she laughed, not even bothering to bat his hand away.

"Another?" she yelled, slurring the word slightly.

I couldn't watch them drool over her like she was a free show from the Blooming Rose. I couldn't stand the thought of all their hands pawing at her bare skin. Worst a strong part of me was angry because I thought the sight should me for me and me alone. Just the sight of her up there was filling me with a sickly rage till my stomach was a tight ball of nothing but fierce jealous anger.

I felt ready to kill someone.

I strode up to her, pulling one of the watchers from his chair by his collar and throwing him to the floor as I did so. I reached out and caught one of her bare arms. She stopped like a clockwork toy when it ran out of energy and tried to face me as I dragged her from the table.

"Fenris," she managed to plead, the word sounding heavy in her mouth in her drunken state. The memory of her sighing my name, not twenty-four hours ago flashed through my mind before I could catch it.

She stumbled from the table into my back. I ignored her continuing to pull her away from the crowd that was now grumbling and calling for her to come back as if they were taunting me.

"Fenris," she tried again before bumping drunkenly into a table.

"Quiet," I snapped, dragging her towards the door, not really sure where we were going just as long as it was out of that room.

I wrenched the door open, letting it slam behind me. Still fuming away I threw Fen' Harel against a wall and turned ready to...

I stopped.

Fen' Harel was shivering violently, trying to cover her almost naked body with a dazed almost lost expression. The anger that had been boiling up started to simmer and fade.

What was she doing to me?

"Do you have any idea...," I began striding towards her, trying to resist the urge to touch her skin.

"Fenris," she smiled lazily, "did you see me dancing?"

"Yes I saw you," I snapped tensing up again.

She pressed a finger to her lips, "Sshh, don't tell...don't tell Hawke. He would NNOOOTT approve."

"Stop," I said grasping her shoulders, willing for the guilt and unknown consuming, destructive emotion to leave me be, "stop it."

"Ssstop what? I've done...I've done alot of thi, thi, thi, stuff tonight, you'll have to narrow, narrow it down," she partly sang with a playful laugh.

She shuddered suddenly.

"Fenris I'm cold," she pleaded and I found my eyes lingering on her semi-naked body, remembering how her skin tasted and felt under my skin. I felt my resolve melting as she stared up at me with an utterly lost expression.

Maker, stop playing cruel games with me.

Stop taunting me with things I couldn't have. I want my memories but couldn't find them, I want Fen' Harel but can't have her. And he places her in front of me as a constant torment, and when with her he plagues me with just flashes of memory too fast to catch as a constant torment. It was tearing me apart.

"Fenris," she said softly leaning clumsily forward to place her words in my ear, "would you like to do me? Right now in the street?"

Have mercy Maker, please stop.

It was strange that the one time I'd travelled through High town at night when I wasn't attacked was when I was leading a woman in her underwear behind me.

"Hawke's, Hawke's joining in too?" Fen' Harel frowned in confusion as we stopped outside the Hawke estate, "but he's like a, like a brother, it'll be a bit weird."

She was leaning heavily against me in her state and I had to almost carry her to the door. Using the key Hawke had given me I unlocked the door and kicked it open pulling Fen' Harel in behind me.

I pulled open the door to what would have been the servant's quarters, the memories of the room still clinging to it like a layer of dust.

"I'm home," Fen' Harel whispered seeming almost like a child that had gone astray, a heavy sadness clinging to her face. She was leaning heavily against my back for support and calmness, a certain serenity washed over me. I lead her gently to her bed and tried to lie here down which was proving difficult as she began to loose control of her limbs.

"Such a gentleman Fenris," she sighed sadly, her chest rising and falling in one heavy movement. No-one had seen her this way but me, the feelings she hid behind the smiles.

"I just think you like torturing me," she whispered with a melancholic smile.

I paused, listening intently to her as she lay sprawled across her bed.

"It'd be so much easier if I didn't care," her voice light, her words heavy.

Something stirred in my chest, she did care. I had always assumed that she didn't. A jolt of ecstatic happiness shot through me, despite the fact I was sitting perched on the edge of her bed in the near darkness.

"But it's okay you can use me up, I don't mind."

I hated myself.

"Fen' Harel..." I began but didn't know to finish the sentence.

"Please stay tonight, I don't think I can be here like this alone."

And because she asked I found myself lying opposite her. It was too late, something had its claws into me and wasn't letting go.


	23. Saundermounts deer population decreases

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Saundermount's deer population decreases by one.

It was slightly awkward seeing them all again after my slight... slip of behaviour. It wasn't that bad but I assumed the group who had only seen playful flirting from me before and hadn't really expected me to start stripping on tables for random people. The whole situation was only made worse because it was Fenris who'd come to the rescue, like some white pissing knight. I'd seen him briefly through bleary eyes the next morning sitting on the very edge of the bed, just watching like some outcast that was waiting for permission to return home. Afterwards I'd drifted back to sleep allowing Hawke, who'd rushed home after Varric's message, to cram me full of potions that banished unbearable headaches and a nauseated stomach. That, and Merrill's account of the incident the morning after that.

I think I'd worried Hawke and Merrill, mostly because I wouldn't tell them what was wrong with me. I trusted them both, Merrill to an extent I must admit but surprisingly we'd developed a strange friendship, but I still couldn't tell them. Maybe because I, myself wasn't exactly sure what had happening to me. Hawke and Merrill had never seen me like that before either, I suppose they expected everything to slide off me like water on a duck's back, they hadn't seen me trying to run or self-destruct.

I couldn't use alcohol to run from this problem evidently. And it would all be so much easier if Fenris didn't pretend he cared. Everything returned to normal actually when I finally decided to skulk out of the Hawke estate. It was strange that I had almost expected the world to change slightly but it was still the same. There was a few comments from Varric and Isabella, and some weird bearded guy kept slapping my ass but besides that, nothing. Me and Fenris pretended almost as if it hadn't had happened. It was difficult seeing him, every time there was a mixture of painful confusion and naked hurt but I still couldn't bring myself to hate him. After awhile, I started getting used to it, like toothache it doesn't hurt any less but you seem to get used to the pain.

It's good actually despite that. Life generally I mean, not the pain. Hawke was rich and happy with Anders, both of them too lazy with love to sit there arguing with me about the mages plight. Merrill seemed to have hit a dead end with her evil mirror thing and thus spent more time with us trying to forget about it. Isabella was pretty safe with Hawke's protection, Aveline was shacked up with Donnic and well Varric is Varric.

I spent alot of time with Fenris, Varric, Isabella and Merrill actually, who Fenris kept trying to drive of with insults that flew over her head. I visited Merrill's hut quite frequently, she always made me Dalish meals and I'd end up leaving with at least several tomes on the Dalish or other such related subjects. She was strange around me when we went over, she'd randomly blush after the tiniest of skin contact like she had when we were travelling to the deep roads and she kept staring at me sometimes which would freak me out a little bit. Guess she was just shy now she'd left the clan. I also spent alot of time treasure hunting with Isabella, she taught me to sail on this tiny little boat Hawke gave her but I didn't have natural talent for it and spent more time swimming than sailing. Then we spent most of the evenings in the Hanged man drinking and talking with anyone who cared to turn up. When I found out that he couldn't read I'd marched over to his mansion with an armful of books. After teasing him about for what I considered for an appropriate amount of time, I usually measure it by the amount of curses he hurled at me; I asked him if he wanted me to teach him.

He glared at me suspiciously before mumbling "no," with a scowl.

"Fine by me," I smiled lopsidedly curling up with the book, "it's only the book of Shartan."

I saw his ears prick up slightly but he remained sitting studying me while I read.

"What do you get out of this?" he asked.

"I get to laugh at you," I mumbled, Fenris raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth with that tense, pissed expression strained across his face, "but..." I cut in before he could say a word, "...I wouldn't because I'd be honouring a promise I made to you."

"What promise?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I hadn't expected him to remember.

"We made a deal. You taught me to use my Lyrium markings in combat and in return I'd teach you something, so I may as well teach you to read."

He seemed apprehensive at first but finally agreed. I had to admit neither of us were a very good teacher or pupil since neither of us seemed to have any patience at all. And after half an hour one of us had thrown the book at a wall... or the other's head. But then Fenris or me would sigh retrieve the book and start all over again. I learned that what he lacked in patience, he made up for in determination.

I felt as though I was learning things about him all the time until it felt like I was walking across an obstacle course blindfolded and slowly people were beginning to point out where the objects were. Fenris detested fish; he couldn't even stomach the tiny ones. He also loved the warmth, I mean he could stand the cold after living on the run but he loved the heat and would always keep the fire burning in the mansion. He couldn't shoot a deer for shit but he was the king of catching rabbits. He enjoys books actually and after beginning to grasp reading he started devouring them like someone starving. Fenris was protective and possessive in my company without suffocating me, I felt as though I wasn't expected to act a certain way

He's quick to anger and always starts a fight over the tiniest things. He turns nearly everything into a competition which I usually win due to cheating. Which puzzles him to no end and he then spends half an hour trying to work out how I won but he seems to like the challenge regardless. Then there's he's issues with trust that were twenty times worse than mine. He changes mood depending on the company rather than he's individual temper. Fenris has these moods where he's calm and light, delivering these sarcastic comments that make me laugh unashamedly. Where he sits in a comfortable silence that makes you appreciate his company or just says what comes to mind which means sometimes unpredictably sharing his secrets. Then there's these moods where he closes up again revelling nothing to no one, watching everyone with suspicious eyes and tensing up for some unexpected attack.

But he was by no means a saint. Fenris drives me insane most of the time. He's as stubborn as a mule and would refuse that wood came from trees if he convinced himself otherwise. He's really selfish too, not that that bothered me too much because I wasn't keen on being pandered anyway, but it usually meant he obliviously upset Hawke or Anders. There was his legendary temper that boiled up suddenly and violently from almost nowhere. Then worst of all, Fenris had a habit of being able to get to me more than anyone else; it drove me completely insane I swear.

Despite everything I couldn't stop being near him, like a moth that was already trapped in a glass jar escape was impossible now. Although despite everything the past months had been one of the happiest times in my life. I felt unconditionally loved and trusted; it was a warm filling sensation.

I was mulling all this over as I pulled an arrow from the quiver and set my hunting bow, keeping it low as me, Hawke, Fenris, Aveline and Merrill crouched and stalked across the bottom of Saundermount. We were far enough from the Dalish hunting grounds to not disturb them and far enough away from Kirkwall to not disturb the game. Aveline, Hawke and Fenris were worth while hunting partners but Merrill was slightly hopeless.

"I think I found something hairy for us to shoot at," Merrill whispered excitedly, pointing over the long grass towards a nearby clump of trees.

"I thought we asked Aveline not to invite Donnic," Fenris said drily. I had to muffle laughter with my arm.

"I can always direct my next patrol towards a certain _illegal_ squatter," she retorted with a scowl.

"Can't be Donnic the sideburns aren't big enough," I added.

"Ssh," Hawke said interrupting Aveline at the beginning of her rant, "you're scaring away all the game."

We were silent for a moment as she crept stealthily towards the mysterious creature.

"Fen' Harel," Merrill piped up again, "I was wondering if you wanted to come round to my hut later, after this of course I wouldn't expect you to drop everything and go now, but..."

"Well, that's an unexpected turn of events," Fenris said sarcastically. Merrill seemed slightly hurt by the comment, her large puppy dog eyes widening slightly and her tiny bottom lip quivering.

"Oh, ignore him, he's just tired. Extreme brooding takes alot out of him you know?"

Fenris scowled at me for a moment with one side of his mouth quirked up in an odd, frustrated smirk.

"I bet I hit that deer first," he challenged pointing over at the creature that still hadn't been identified but we all presumed was a deer.

"You can't even hit a piss pot when it's right in front of you," I teased with a serious expression.

"Charming," Aveline muttered, rolling her eyes away from us.

I suddenly really wanted to hit that deer.

It was just as I was my bow string when the cooked before my very eyes in a burst of flame. Me and Fenris simultaneously turned incredulous glares on Hawke.

"Sorry it had to be done," he said apologetically.

"At least its ready cooked now," Merrill beamed.

It was in fact a deer we learned while Hawke and Aveline began creating some form of harness to drag the carcass back to Kirkwall.

"Some help would be welcome," Aveline said heaving one end of the apparatus onto her stable shoulder.

"We didn't shoot it," I aimed a disapproving look at Hawke who only shrugged with a good natured smile in reply.

"Besides it's about time Fen' Harel threw another book at me in a fit of rage," Fenris muttered, which loosely translated as please come teach me to read even though I'll never thank you.

"Me?" I said attempting to look hurt, "Hurl anything at you? I reject that notion."

"I saw the bruise from last week's session," Merrill shook her head sympathetically.

"Do you know how many books I've had to replace after he's flung them out of the window?" I asked but it fell on deaf ears.

"I'm debating going in a full set of amour..." he mused.

"Twenty. Twenty books!"

"...Or maybe tying her hands up in cooking mittens," Fenris continued to suggest.

"I'll throw you out the pissing window behind the books if you do," I threatened.

"Such a gentle, loving teacher," he grinned darkly at me. Damn him.

Fenris POV:

"See you tomorrow," Merrill smiled hugging her briefly before running off back into her hut.

"Yeah, bye Merrill," Fen' Harel smiled in return giving Merrill's retreating figure a slight wave.

I couldn't help but feel a slight sickly twinge of jealousy at seeing the pair. I would have preferred a different one handed gesture to see Merrill off but she was surprisingly Fen' Harel's friend, I think she felt slightly protective of the little blood mage. I didn't understand it at least.

Hawke and Aveline had returned to the Hawke and Estate after picking up Anders, we'd decided to go our separate ways. Maker only knows how Fen' Harel had managed to convince me to escort Merrill home with her. But I was finding it increasingly difficult to say no to Fen' Harel.

"Why do you talk to her?" I asked as I pulled the door to the mansion open for her unable to avoid the question any longer.

"I'm not sure, I think she's lonely and I enjoy her company if I'm completely honest," she said.

I turned to scrutinize her; her dark hair was almost to her elbows now but still cut jaggedly, "she's a blood mage, do I have to remind you what magic can do?"

"Do I have to remind you who you're talking to," she said, Maker she had a wolfish smile.

"Of course not I apologize."

She yawned stretching her arms above her head.

"Tired are we?" I asked keeping one eye on her as she slumped fatigued in the chair.

"We are," she nodded in-between a yawn, "I was up all night chasing some Maker forsaken crate with Isabella."

She was always running around doing something for someone I wish sometimes she'd tell them all to piss off.

She drew quiet again, grasping two books from the pile I'd liberated from her library, passing me one and taking one for herself, she began to read. I enjoyed the silence I was left to read without interruptions. I was more thankful to Fen' Harel for teaching me to read than I'd ever let her catch onto. It was difficult trying to work out my feelings in a sentence and when I did it was even harder to tell her.

There was a knock at the door.

I rose from the chair, resting the book on the table and went to the door. There was a young man there barely out his teens. He seemed nervous, shifting restlessly and searching what little of Darius' mansion he could see with frantic eyes.

"Is Fen' Harel there?" he asked.

"Who asks and for what reason?" I scowled at him.

"Hawke sent me, he said it was vital I delivered a message to Fen' Harel she needs to come back right now!"

"Why, have you any proof you are what you say you are?"

"No there's no time he just said she needs to come home."

I studied him for a moment but he didn't budge just looked up at me pleadingly. I was apprehensive that it might be a trap but if it wasn't...

Fen' Harel had drowsed off again in the chair. The heat always made her fall asleep. I wondered how she'd ever got any rest in Fereldan where it was notoriously cold. Shaking her gently I told her that someone was at the door for her. I said Hawke had sent him. She rubbed her eyes with her fists and looked at me puzzled for a moment for it registered and she sprang from the chair. I followed her back to the door, lingering nearby as she spoke to him.

"Thank the Maker," the boy sighed releasing the breath he'd been holding when he saw Fen' Harel, "you need to follow me right now."

"Why? Wait what's going on?" she asked.

"I can't say Hawke just said it's important, no vital that you come home right now, he said that Leandra's in trouble."

She gave one quick glance at me, eyes wide in the on-coming torrent of panic before she sprinted off in the direction of the Hawke estate.

A/N:

You know what's coming in the next chapter :'( I wonder how Fen' Harel'll take it :/ This chapter was mega long but I wanted to give you an idea of what life was like for her at the moment and her relationships with everyone which are all pretty good right now even with Anders. Thanks so much for all the reviews and everything they keep me writing when I feel like just forgetting about it =

THANKS FOR READING :D


	24. Childhood nightmares

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Childhood nightmares.

Fen' Harel aged 9:

I tried to stop breathing but the earth and roots still dislodged slightly with each breath. He'd hear it for sure but I was far too tired from running to stop gulping in air. There was a scurry outside the den, a mad scramble of feet before a waiting silence.

Leaning forward I began to creep towards the entrance imaging myself as some feral animal escaping its predator. The den I'd decided to hide in was constructed almost entirely from an upturned tree, the uprooted earth and bracken clinging desperately to the protruding roots of the oak until they formed a lazy roof and walls.

"Evelyn?"

Damn it, he knew I was here.

Uttering the most foulest word I knew at that age and wouldn't dare usher in front of my mother, "Oh Crap."

"Evelyn!"

I waited with baited breath for my cover to be blown.

I was sweating I was sure.

There was more noise from outside, footsteps. Maybe he was leaving? Maybe he'd given up? I waited for what felt like forever before I poked my face out from beneath the curtain of weeds. At once there was a cry of triumph and I was thrown roughly to the ground with another smaller body hurtling itself at me.

"Ahh!" I cried trying to dislodge the wiry little creature's grip, whacking at arms and kicking at shins before scurrying away, laughing.

"I caught you," James called after me.

"You've still got to shot me," I called back, trying to locate my bow before he could draw his. James hardly ever missed. That's when I spotted it, glowing almost faintly silver in the light that was coloured a pale green under the canopy of trees. Bounding over towards it I was blown of course as one of James arrows hit me square in the eye.

"Aaahh!" I cried for the second time in three minutes. I clutched at my poor eye trying to see through a swelter of tears that had flooded my vision.

"Evelyn," James came running over, throwing his bow to the floor he hovered nervously nearby unsure whether to approach his wounded sister or not.

"Oh crap, crap my crapping eye," I cursed rubbing at it.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern coming forward to inspect the damage.

"Yeah, it's just sore," I said finally managing to pry it open partially.

"Are you sure? I didn't mean to get you, I really didn't I'm sorry. Maybe we should go home?"

"No, its okay I promise."

"Okay... Hey what's that?"

I fixed my one good eye on where he was pointing. It was the stick thing. It looked abit like a walking stick but much longer and more elegant with intricate patterns etched and swirling around the wood. At it's head the largest emerald I'd ever seen, fracturing the light into multiple deep green shapes on the ground nearby.

"I dunno. I saw it earlier. What do you think it is?"

James stroked his bald chin and squinted his eyes in a gesture he'd copied from father. He thought it made him look older and wiser, I disagreed.

"I'm not sure but it looks important. Let's take it back to father, he'll know."

We nodded in agreement and began dislodging it from the tree. It took both of us to carry it and the end still dragged along the floor lazily drawing a snail trial in the grass and dirt.

"Evelyn? What does 'crap' mean anyway?" James asked me.

I wasn't sure to be honest. I'd only heard one of the mother's friends say "I'm sick of all this crap" when they're was a bug sweeping through the Alienage. Father had sent alot away to a clinic but they'd decided to live there and help the doctors. Life was better when they left anyway, Father bought us new bows and a wolfhound but mother said he was too young to leave his mother just yet. I'm going off on a tangent I apologize; mother said I need to stop doing that. Anyway I guessed that crap meant disease.

"It means disease but people say it when they're angry because it's a swear word," I told him.

He nodded his head as if he knew that anyway.

We paused outside the section of the castle that acted as our home and caught sight of our reflections in the shield with the family crest nailed to the door.

"Oh crap," James said, "mom's head is going to explode when she sees us."

"What?" I asked moving him to the side so I could get a view. I immediately dropped my side of the stick thing and began to hastily spit clean my face. James did the same, dusting his clothes off as I dusted mine then we attempted to scrap the mud off each others backs and clean our shoes on the tiles. By the time we were finished the hallway was devastated and we were no cleaner.

"That'll have to do," I grimaced observing our faces that were now smeared with mud _and _spit.

"Yeah, we look a bit better but you've torn your top."

"Just say someone in the village did it. She always believes that."

Our mother was ready to believe that villagers were unkind to us but in truth they weren't, well not in the classic name calling way. Most of the other children tended to stay away from us, sensing that we were freaks because we were... strange to put it honestly. The few friends we had we shared. But these friends tended to just play with us when we were around and never openly sought our company. Instead we were each others best friends and spent far more time together and not arguing than was natural for siblings.

We both took a deep breath and mustering what courage we had and knocked on the door. It swung open to the fresh scent of vanilla and wild flowers. She'd been redecorating that meant father was home tonight. Mother's expectant smile dropped as she saw first the state of her two children and then what they were carrying. We both glanced at one another, fear and panic etched on our faces the same word flashing through our mind, "crap."

"Come in quick" mother ushered us in but I was momentarily shocked that she didn't seem angry at all but scared. When mother was scared I knew I should be terrified.

Mother shut the door and locked it before turning to us. She looked just like James and nothing like me. They had dark hair, a deep brunette that was almost close to old wood and curled softly at the ends, instead of my thick straight dirty blonde mop. Their skin was warm and richly tanned instead of the cold paleness of me and father. Their faces and features were soft and feminine. Their eyes were a mix of deep greens and browns that were far more alluring and comforting than the shocking blue and whites of ours. Everything about mother and James was warm summer nights while me and father were a cruel winter. Most people didn't even realise we were related until they saw us together. Maker, I wished I looked like them, no wonder people tended to more affectionate to them immediately.

"Where'd you find that?" she asked. I'd never seen her so straight faced, usually she wore her heart on her sleeve, when she wasn't laughing or smiling she was shouting or crying. Being over-emotional was one of the few traits we shared.

"In the woods," James said eager to hand the object over to her, once he had we gripped each other's sleeves, something we tended to do when we were feeling anxious or scared, an affirmation that the other was still there.

"Where in the woods?" Mother asked. She was scaring me; I wanted desperately to run off but knew that escape would only make it worse later.

"Further out, near the sinkhole," I mumbled.

"Maker," mother breathed to herself, she stroked the stick lovingly for a moment like it was an old friend she'd just be reintroduced to.

"I don't want you to go near that area of the woods again," she said giving us both a stern eye.

"But," we began.

"No buts, don't go there."

"But that's one of the few...," I started again.

"Don't fight me on this Evelyn, just please listen to me," she sighed, all the malice and threats gone she seemed tired and heartbreakingly sad. I nodded.

"Good, speak of this to no one" she said quietly, "now both of you get in that bath before your father gets back and sees the state of you both."

"Maker you've ripped all your clothes as well," she groaned as she pulled us gently into the bathroom.

"Hey Evelyn?" James asked later that night in the near darkness of the room we shared, our beds a mere arms length apart, "you still awake?"

"Yeah," I whispered back, "you?"

"Yeah. What do you think was wrong with mother when she saw that big stick?"

"I dunno maybe she's crap?"

"Yeah she might be I heard her coughing yesterday."

There was a pause for a moment.

"Hey Evelyn," James whispered again, "you still awake?"  
>"Yeah, you?"<p>

"Yeah. Hey that den you were hiding in today looked pretty good."

"Yeah it did, maybe we should build it up some more tomorrow?"

"Yeah I know where there's a log pile," our voices began to grow louder with the excitement at the prospect of the den.

"Maybe we could borrow a flag and attach that as well."

"Yeah and maybe..."

"Go to bed," father called from the main room and we both immediately shut up, ducked our heads down and feigned sleep.

"Hey Evelyn... goodnight."

"Goodnight James."

Fen' Harel aged 15:

They were arguing again. I couldn't help but hear them. Caleb whined as something smashed and the shouting escalated. I smoothed the fur on his head; me and James had shared the wolfhound for five years now even though it spent far more time with me than James.

"Evelyn," speak of the devil, "you awake?" he asked turning to light one of the few candles in the room. We still shared despite the many arguments about it with mother. I'd told her we were both too old to be sharing a room. Even though right now I was pretty thankful of his presence.

"Yeah."

"Are they arguing about me again?"

"Yeah."

We were quiet a moment, the miserable confession suffocating all sound in the room. It only made the shouting outside seem louder.

"It was only the once," James whispered, I could hear the anger in his own incapability clearly, "it's only happened the once."

"I know," I whispered back, my back was to him as I stared at the door dead eyed, gently stroking the wiry fur on Caleb's head, "it's not just that though, not this time."

The one time James had used his magic was terrifying. We'd been fighting over what I couldn't remember just the sensation that the very world was suddenly crushing down on my chest. I'd never felt anything so powerful or so terrifying.

"Oh," he sounded surprised and even slightly relieved that he wasn't the main focus of the fighting for once, "What else?"

I sighed, "me, each other, everything."

They were almost screaming at one another now.

"...I've hardly seen you in two months, not one hello, or how are you when you finally do turn up just dinner then bed, we don't talk about anything!" I heard mother, I'd never heard her shout like this, even the worst of our fights were muted compared to this.

"No we don't talk we just scream at each other! And then we wonder why neither of them comes to us when there's something wrong, we didn't even know James was a mage until last week!" Father thundered in reply it was a further shock to hear him like this, he was usually so calm and quiet, and he'd only ever raised his voice to me twice.

I heard James shift in the bed behind me, glancing back I saw him extinguish the flame and stuff the pillow over his head. I stayed where I was, there was no sleeping tonight. I'd see this through in the darkness until it was finished.

"What do you expect! When was the last time you talked to him you're far too busy caring for Mercia to bother about your own family! I gave everything up for you Wulfhere, my friends, my family even my own people, FOR YOU!"

"I KNOW THAT! Don't you think I KNOW THAT! I'm working so I CAN be here for YOU! It's killing me but I keep on serving Mercia!"  
>I heard mother laugh but it was bitter and cruel, not the usual deep, rich laugh of hers.<p>

"Working hard for Mercia? You're selling half the Alienage FOR MERCIA! My own people, PEOPLE WULFHERE! People you've deemed less important and therefore worth sacrificing for your precious _shemlen!_" she spat the last word, an insult of the highest order.

Something broke, shattered on tiles.

"That's it Wulfhere, I'm staying at the Alienage tonight, I can't stay here with you another night."

The door opened and slammed shut leaving a broken silence behind it a silence that rocked me to the core. The people I had grown up with knowing them as my parents weren't who I'd thought they were at all. Feeling numb and sore, as if I'd fell from something. I stood.

"James," I whispered, he was shaking, he was crying, "James you awake?"

He nodded and I lifted the sheet and slipped in next to him. It was a shock the contrast between us, James' skin always boiling hot while mine was perpetually cold like when we were children, the summer child and the winter child. I snaked my arms around his skinny waist and pulled him close. I was crying too now, everything was falling apart, it seemed so inconceivably unfair. And in this moment of vulnerability we became children again desperate for the comfort of knowing the other was there. James turned and hugged me back. We stayed like that awhile until James' sobbing hysteria lapsed and he was still in exhaustion.

"Evelyn?" he asked.

"Yeah," I whispered back wiping the tears from my eyes before he could see them. It seemed so vital that I looked strong to him while mother and father fell apart.

"I'm a freak aren't I? Mages are monsters?"

"You think you're a freak, the Sisters read the entire chant of Light _willingly, _I'd deem that monstrous."

He laughed weakly.

"You're not a monster James, you're one of the few good people I know and being able to throw a midget around a room by pointing a stick at it won't _ever _change that," I whispered to him, "I wish I could throw a midget around a room with a stick."

"If I'm not a monster then why are they going to lock me in a tower?" his jaw tightened.

"Because people are scared of something different. It's easier to shut you away than actually trying to help you. It's always been that way."

"So you're comparing me to that kid that eats worms." I laughed at his comment.

"What are you talking about, you were always that kid." He laughed at my comment.

"I really don't want to go."

"I'll come break you out if they do I promise."  
>"What are you going to do threaten to go in my place?"<p>

"If it comes to that but I wouldn't want to scare them that much at the start."

He laughed weakly.

"I promise I'd come get you," I said suddenly deadly serious with the fierce need to protect my younger brother from the world if need be, "because you're an arsswipe but I love you. I'd do whatever it takes to get you out."

James was silent for what felt like a year, I thought he'd gone to sleep and began to close my own eyes more weary than I had ever been.

"Thank you Evelyn," James whispered before the world was swallowed in darkness.

Fen' Harel aged 16:

I laughed, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, just like that," Gwen smirked.

"Oh Maker it's a wonder you're still breathing," I said to Layla.

"I know," Layla frowned in self confession.

Layla and Gwen, the closest friends had ever had. I loved them more than they could know.

"So what time's your brother coming home?" Gwen asked.

"Later."

"Yeah but when?"

"He just said later."

"Oh."

"I still can't believe you managed to get him home?" Layla said. I laughed in relief.

"I know yeah, I can hardly believe it myself," I grinned. But I'd promised. I promised him I'd get him out.

"What'd you have to do? Gwen asked but quietly like she was expecting something horrible. I didn't blame her for thinking so.

"I dunno," I said rubbing my head, it didn't make much sense when I tried to think about what it had involved, "I just had to talk to all these people and give them samples of blood and pray _alot_. Yes there was alot of praying."

"It's a wonder you didn't go up in flames," Layla muttered. I aimed a kick in her direction. She was just about to return it when she noticed something behind me. I turned and instantly spotted two people in particular, Aiden and his father. Aiden looked over at me and smiled, I smiled back. He was easy to spot with his bright auburn hair and Dalish tribe markings.

I remember when he told me about those, we'd been lying up on this hill, a small rounded hump of grass and earth that I'd managed to claim as a personal kingdom. It slightly overlooked the market so I was able to spot any oncoming enemies and close enough to the woods to retreat there. I'd spent most of last year and near enough all of this year on that hill, either with Layla, Gwen or Aiden. I did know other people but they hadn't been given the honour of sitting on dirt on my frumpy old hill yet and probably never would. Anyway me and Aiden were sitting on the hill, watching the townsfolk milling about in the receding light and leisurely sipping from a bottle he'd liberated from a friend. When he sighed ruffling a hand through his hair, it was the colour of burnt leaves in autumn and contrasted greatly with his blue eyes. The movement drew my eyes to the markings of two brambled branches that crawled across his cheekbones.

"I always forget to ask," I said lightly placing a finger on his cheekbone and trailing the jagged edge of the markings, "where you got these from."

"Oh," he said jumping slightly at the contact, he was always so jumpy but I suppose so was I we matched in that sense, before relaxing again, "those."

"It's my family markings, the Vashillin from my family when we were Dalish," he said in that perpetually excited voice of his, "I had it done when I was younger."

"But you're not Dalish, your parents are," I pointed out almost completely engrossed in tracing the markings now.

"I know but I belong to that family so I'm given these just like when we're married you'll be..."

He stopped and I froze before moving to face him with a lopsided grin.

"'When' we're married Aiden?" I said slowly and slyly.

He turned bright red, flushing crimson under the spattering of freckles on his nose.

"If, I meant if we're ever married," he tried to recover vainly.

"Are you going to make an honest woman out of me," I teased.

"I'd never describe you as that," he replied with a mock frown.

"Ow that hurt," I said feigning heartbreak.

"Here let me kiss it better," Aiden grinned wickedly in response attempting to steal a kiss from me as we struggled and wrestled playful, laughing and sweet with the awkwardness of teenage romance.

"You do realise his father's glaring at both of you," Gwen said snapping me back to the present.

"No thanks for pointing that out," I smiled back at Layla attempting to cover my blush.

"It's more of an inquisitive hateful stare," Gwen mused, "rather than I hate you, it's like I might hate you if I could see you better."

"When did you become the expert on this?" Layla asked.

"Didn't you know about Gwen's vast repertoire of hateful stare, she really she an idol in that area," I mumbled.

"It's true," Gwen sighed lifting her nose into the air in mock monarchy.

"Anyway I think you and Aiden are good. You're both freaks you deserve each other," Layla teased.

"Yeah just like you and the brood mother match," I smirked, kicking at her foot.

"Will you two kiss already?" Gwen sighed and we both kicked at her instead, "hey, stop that, ow."  
>"Evelyn."<p>

We froze and turned, my father was watching us from his horse as we sat in the grass viewing the market scene below.

"Father," I smiled at him. Gwen looked away lazily while Layla openly glared. Though my father had never voiced his opinion I knew he disapproved of the company I kept. Gwen and Layla were both elves as was Aiden. I was a half breed and I suppose my father had always hoped I'd prefer the human half and hang around with the other banns children rather than the elves that didn't seem to fit in the other groups. There wasn't just that either, he had hoped that if I had fallen into company with the elves that I might at least act as the leader of them but instead I chose to follow. I didn't even know where to start on how much silent disapproval was aimed at Aiden. He didn't dislike them he'd just rather that I was friends with someone else for my own sake more than his.

"How are you?" he said politely to my friends with a smile.

"Fine thank you," Gwen smiled. Layla didn't even bother to answer; her father was one of the elves that had 'gone missing' in the Alienage. I'd told them both of course and given them money to leave the Mercia Alienage as soon as possible.

"Evelyn could you please go home and change the Templars will be arriving soon," he said but without the warmth and smile I would have expected. Something was wrong.

"Sure," I said with a confused frown, "Sure."

This was it. Maker this was it.

I could barely stand still. I chose not to, peeking upwards on my toes I tried to see him. Please let him be there, I was almost sick with nerves.

"Calm down Evelyn," Father said resting a hand on my arm to steady me, "It's all going to be okay."

I stopped shuffling around and looked up at him. It was as though it wasn't my father anymore I'd only seen that expression on his face once before when mother had left him. He saw me staring and looked down at me with the most regretful eyes I'd ever seen, it was agonizing.

"Knight Commander Gregoir," someone announced and Father snapped back to attention all the hurt I'd seen just seconds ago fading to indifference.

That was it; I was running across the frost covered courtyard oblivious to the group of mages dressed in expensive fabrics and furs, oblivious to the duteous heavily armoured Templars and oblivious the biting cold that threatened to turn my bones to lead.

"James!" I called trying to seeing him through the haze of silver and swords of might. Maker, I'd missed him so much, I'd missed him like a drowning man misses air.

"James!"

There was silence as I tried to push through the ranks of Templars then...

"Evelyn!"

I swear I almost cried with relief. He was here. I felt like shouting it out to no-one in particular but myself as a release of the flood of emotion.

"Evelyn!"

The Templars were being jostled from the outside and the inside now and began to struggle slightly reluctant to grab me without my father's permission.

"Knight Commander?" one asked hesitantly as I tried to shove him blindly aside.

"You have permission to secure her."

It was difficult to define clearly what happened next. There were hands, cold, hard and claw like securing me by the arms as the sea of Templars parted revealing for a moment two Templars dragging a familiar struggling shape away from me. They didn't stop at my father; they continued to pull him across the courtyard towards the group of Magisters.

"James!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Glimpsing him for a moment. One moment. Frantic hazel eyes that almost seemed bright green in the bright winter light. He was twisting and fighting the Templars grasp and calling my name too. I tried to reach out a hand, I needed to touch his sleeve, I was scared.

The Templars weren't letting go, in fact they were pulling away, away from James and towards the front exit of the castle I was being swept up in there current. I hit at them, but every hand that was beaten away another took it's place. No! This wasn't right, I needed to see James.

"James!" I screamed. I could feel my insides being torn apart with each reluctant footstep backwards.

"Evelyn!" he managed before he was swallowed up in a sea of rich furs and fabrics.

"James! James! JAMES!" I tried fighting despite the painful burning in my muscles.

"Please!"

We were at the gate now.

I felt as though I was on the brink of the end of everything.

"Please," I looked straight at my father, right in the eye.

But he couldn't look at me. He couldn't bring himself to look at me.

A/N:

There we go ^_^ I hoped you enjoyed it. I was thinking of doing a flashback chapter anyway but tmjay10's review only encouraged me more. I'm doing another one that involves her time with the Templars but that's going to be later on. In this it's odd to think how opposed she is to mages later on when you see her with her brother. If you've got any questions please ask because I want to make sure I haven't confused anyone. By the way Evelyn is Fen' Harel's real name and that 'stick thing' from the start was a staff.

JAMES!

Sorry had to do that :/

THANK YOU FOR READING! =3 =3


	25. The end

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

The end. 

Leandra.

Maker no.

She fell. Hawke ran to catch her.

Leandra.

The memories of nights spent in with her. There's another rip in the bloodstained rags that I call clothes. She buys me a whole new wardrobe. Crying over her daughter at night. Smiling at me, face caught in sunlight.

Leandra.

Not her, not her please.

Including me as part of the family. Bandaging my beaten hands. Hugging me when I returned from the party at Bann Wulfhere's estate. The smell of baked bread.

Maker, no.

"You've made me so proud Garrett...I love you."

3 years later.

Knight Commander Meredith stormed off with a face like thunder and Orsino with a triumphant grin a slight lightness to his shoulders now. I watched Hawke from the shadows of the Viscounts' walk with a scowl. The knight commanders slowed slightly as she neared me and granted me a nod of acknowledgement, we had done business and my performance was to be appreciated, I ignored her, my eyes solely focused on Hawke. He appeared oblivious to Meredith's salutation I knew he wasn't.

"Was there any need for that?" I cut as I stalked back to his side.

"Of course there was Fen' Harel. As the Champion of Kirkwall I need to show my support to the mage's plight," he said gently with infinite patience.

"You sound like you've vomited one of Anders manifestos," I said with a grin.

Hawke halted, so I was left facing his bare back. Story of my life at the moment, always on the wrong side of Hawke some invisible, impenetrable separating us. Maker I wished Carver was here, almost as much as...

I caught myself as a familiar lump wedged itself in my throat.

"Please don't talk about Anders like that Fen' Harel," he said softly but I could hear the iron beneath the velvet, "we've discussed this."

Left with nothing to say, I waited for something else to present itself as a distraction because me and Hawke didn't talk anymore, not properly. I spoke to Carver far more than Hawke and he was far away in Amaranthine. Writing that letter had been one of the hardest things I've ever done.

Dear Carver,

Leandra is

I'm sorry but Leandra's

I don't know how to say that

Something's happened and Leandra

Please come home.

Please

Love,

Fen' Harel.

He hadn't been able to stay of course but for one night, the remaining Hawke family had been to together. The last of Hawke's I suppose now that Carver couldn't reproduce and Hawke was serious about Anders. How much I'd missed Carver was only accentuated by his return but he seemed happy with the Wardens. Part of me wanted desperately to go with him. I couldn't there were too many anchors tying me to Kirkwall.

"What are you thinking about?" Hawke asked studying me with golden eyes.

"Nothing. So what are we up to today, oh Champion?"

"Unfortunately, there have been reports of bandits on the Wounded..."

"Brilliant," I groaned in irritation. Loudly.

"...Coast which means Aveline won't be able to join us all at the Hanged man this evening."

"Brilliant," I beamed.

Hawke chuckled.

"Don't look at me like that."

Dog whined.

"I said no."

I was confronted with two big brown eyes.

"No Dog I won't be swayed."

The double edged blade of goo-goo eyes and a pitiful whine.

Defeated, I sighed and proceeded to hold the door open for Dog as I headed out for the Hanged man. Dog trotted at my heels as we made our way through Hightown, pleased at his triumph.

"You're a manipulative bastard, you know that?"

Dog gave a happy yelp.

"To be honest, I'm more impressed than angry."

Dog lifted his head displaying his brutish, royal head.

"I mean, frankly Dog you are a master criminal my friend. An expert in the art of crime."

Dog turned his head to the side in confusion.

"Vandalism, theft, the homicide of small furry animals and you've got away with it all. Aveline's looking for the Kingpin of Kirkwall and here he is sitting right under her nose. You are a genius Dog, an absolute genius."

Dog barked happily.

"Talking to animals are we Fen' Harel?"

I almost tripped; thinking for a brief moment (a tiny, tiny, tiny brief moment) that Dog had replied when I noticed a form crouched on a nearby wall like a sombre gargoyle.

"Far more interesting than the average noble," I replied petting Dog's giant head.

"That is...a fair point."

I studied him. His slender, leanly muscled body was coiled unperturbed against the stone of the wall. His sharp, intelligent features still meant I was addicted to looking at him, the proud eleven nose, the delicate cheekbones that left a gaunt in his cheeks and the soft, full mouth. His eyes were brighter than the markings tonight, alive with something, the green dancing. Fenris' eyes were unlike anything on Thedas, they were difficult to describe. He was wearing my favourite expression, the corners of his lips curled softly into a smile watching me with playful eyes.

"What are you going sitting up there, scaring innocent maidens?" I asked.

"Innocent maidens? Pah!" he smiled.

"I was talking about Dog, you scoundrel!"

Dog fixed Fenris with a hard stare that the elf mimicked back. I was about to be burnt to death by the testosterone when Dog lunged and attacked Fenris with a sand paper tongue. Fenris darted away and calmly patted the beasts head to relax him.

"I was on my way to the Hanged Man when.."

"...you decided to stalk me," I interrupted.

"Actually no, when I saw you wander the streets and talking to a dog," he said.  
>"The Dog," I corrected.<p>

Dog barked happily.

"Everyone's coming tonight," I said, "maybe there's a cause for celebration."

"Maybe Anders finally keeled," Fenris muttered.

It was unusual circumstances when all of Hawke's companions were together at once. We tended to meet one another if we were friends but most of the time that was usually just the few that had been invited. Which meant most of the camp was divided, especially now that the dilemma that was hanging onto everyone's tongues was the mage and Templar conflict. I hadn't spoken to Andes and Aveline in months. It was Hawke that bought us all together and now he was too preoccupied with crisis' to play peacemaker. The group was generally split into two, Anders, Aveline and Merrill, me and Fenris with Varric and Isabella being enigmatic enough to be friends with everyone despite their lack of action. I spent alot time with them both, and Merrill but only when Fenris wasn't there.

"Princess!" Varric called me over as I entered the homely stuffiness of the Hanged Man. He gestured to a chair. Isabella, Hawke and Merrill were already seated. I guessed that Anders wasn't coming.

"And Dog," Varric said giving Dog an amused stare.

I waved a hand wearily, "I was overpowered."

"I don't want to hear about you and Fenris in the bedroom," Isabella called with a devilish smirk, "that last comment was an absolute lie."

"Piss off" Fenris scowled.

"Ever the charmer," Isabella winked at him. I found my jaw tightening slightly.

"Erin!" Merrill beamed jumping up to enfold me in a fiercer hug than I expected off the little, Dalish mage.

"Hi Merrill," I choked through the Dalish death grip.

"Oh sorry," she apologizing pulling apart before blushing and painfully fidgeting.

I hardly heard the door to Varric's separate quarters open above the dizzying music and the whispers Isabella was planting in my ear. We were talking about the music in hushed tones comparing Dalish, Dwarf and Human tunes while I patted Dog's head and stroked his velvet ears. I was mid way through comparing the sound a particular Dwarfen instrument to a particular gas release when I was smacked in the jaw.

My brain barely had time to register the movement in a flash of giddy white before I was my chair fell backwards sprawling me onto the hard wood floor. Maker. That had almost tore my head clean off. I could feel the promise of painful throbbing already.

Fenris was already up, launching himself at an enraged Anders that was about to kick his foot into my muddled head. Isabella moving to defend me while Hawke and Varric tried to pull them apart, Merrill was just as blank as I was.

I hadn't expected that.

Varric and Hawke had finally managed to separate them with Hawke restraining Fenris while Varric stood as a wall between me and the furious mage.

"You BITCH!" Anders seethed, almost spitting at me.

I sat up, wiped the back of my hand across my now stinging mouth blood straining the pale skin.

"Ow," I grinned up at him, laughing to myself.

"Anders what is going on?" Hawke asked.

"She...She killed them Hawke, she killed them!" Anders fumed.

"Oh, this is what this is about," I said, steeling myself for the on coming storm.

"'Oh this is what this is about' that's all you can say? You're a monster!" Anders raged.

"No, they were monsters!" I erupted.

"They were trying to get away, start a new life, it was accident," Anders argued.

"A new life, since when do they get a new life?"

Everyone was watching us completely perplexed; it seemed that only me and Anders knew what we were shouting about.

"What's going on Anders? What happened?" Hawke asked him softly.

Anders relaxed slightly; just remembering Hawke's presence seemed to have a calming effect on him.

"I thought I'd meet up with those mages that had newly joined the plight before coming here, just check on them, make sure the Templars weren't suspecting anything," Anders said, he spoke coolly but his eyes were burning raw loathing right into mine, "except there were only three of the original seven left. They said an elf had crept into the safe house at night..."

A few pairs of eyes flashed over to Fenris.

"...she killed them just by touching them. I saw the bodies afterwards Hawke, they were...unnatural, their veins were all black just like someone's who's over-dosed on Black Lyrium."  
>The eyes shifted back to me. Hawke didn't look at me, just continued to stare at Anders searchingly. The atmosphere was tense enough to cut with a knife<p>

"Is this true, Fen' Harel?" Hawke asked me, he looked at me searchingly pleading for it to be untrue.

"Yes," I answered.

"For fuck's sakes Fen' Harel," he cursed underneath his breath one of the few times his composure has cracked, "what did you do?"

"She's been speaking to Meredith again," Anders sneered.

"Don't you dare make me seem as Meredith's lapdog," I spat, "Those mages had practiced blood magic, they made a pact with a demon to escape the circle. Even ask the others, I could smell it on them a mile off."

"So they deserved to die?" Hawke asked.

"Yes, if it prevented other's deaths, yes they did."

Hawke sighed.

"How can I trust you Fen' Harel when your constantly betraying me," he whispered sadly.

I didn't have an answer this wasn't a betrayal but this wasn't the first time we've had this argument. Ever since Leandra's... I'd been taking a few cases from the Knight Commander cases with particularly dangerous apostates that killed any Templars that came within fifty feet of them and secreted themselves away among the helpless cases that begged shelter. This was the fifth time I'd come to blows with Anders over it, and the fifth time Hawke had lost a parcel of faith in me.

"I trust you Hawke," I said.

"I know," he whispered, "I know."

And with that we were bought into focus the room growing again to not only contain me, Hawke and Anders but other spectators who were now moving uncomfortably.

"C'mon Fen' Harel, we'll get that cut healed at Ander's clinic," Hawke intervened, ever the peace maker.

"I'm coming," Fenris said stepping forward.

"It'd be best if you stayed," Hawke said.

"Yeah, I'll need some company," Isabella said, all sultry tones. I disliked her for a moment.

Hawke paused, studying his work.

"There, you'd never tell," Hawke smiles. You wouldn't be able to guess that I'd just been punched in the face by his partner not half an hour ago if you saw us now.

"Thanks Hawke," I said touching my lip attentively.

Hawke looked at me for what felt like a long time, the way a parent looks at a child that they can't understand.

"Why do you hate mages?" he asked. Surprisingly the first time he'd asked me the question. Now nestled in Anders clinic, doors closed against the cloud of scarcity that haunts Dark town. Anders had lit the candles before returning to the Hanged man, unable to spend extended time in my company.

"I don't hate mages, Hawke I hate magic," I said, the disease not the sufferer.

"Why?"

"Power corrupts everything. You must know that, it twists and poisons. Magic is raw power and in the end it will corrupt you. I don't hate mages at all, mages are just people. I hate the thing they've been burdened with. I don't believe that they should all be killed but I don't believe in the mages plight either. If there was a way to limit it to just healing I would in a heartbeat but..."

"Not all mages are like that though."

I laughed quietly and bitterly, "they are if they're human. If I told you that I could bring Leandra and Bethany back from the dead and cure Carver but you had to kill someone in exchange what would you do? You might say no now but for how long. I know what I'd say Hawke I wish it was different," I said with remorse, I really did.

"I understand Fen' Harel," Hawke said, "but I can't agree. I need to have faith."

"I know Hawke but you need to know that I won't stop fighting it. I love you but I can't stop fighting."

Hawke stretched out and hugged me. We stayed like that awhile, embracing my brother in a vain hope that it'd keep the world shut out. There was a war coming and me and Hawke were fighting on separate sides.

A/N:

Part of me was really debating making Fen' Harel leave with Carver and become a Grey Warden but finally decided against it. Anyway there's another chapter, I love the idea of Anders storming in and smacking Fen' Harel in the face. It makes me laugh, maybe because in my head it's on a constant loop O_o Please review, please :'( I'll cry...

THANKS FOR READING :D :D


	26. What are they doing in that tent?

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Andraste's tits what are they doing in that tent?

"I don't think we should trust them," I whispered to Hawke throwing a suspicious glance back at Nuncio and his party.

"I agree," Anders said squaring his shoulders, "I don't think many police squads hang around outside brothels."

"No they're usually inside the brothel," Isabella added.

Hawke nodded at his companion's mutual distrust of the Antivans. I suppose he was glad we weren't arguing for once.

"It's been awhile since we've done this," I said stretching in the warm climate that circulates Kirkwall, beating at its sandy walls and hard faced inhabitants. Gulls squabbled overhead, wheeling towards the consumers of the market, a hundred faces from a hundred different countries, all swathed in light, warm clothing oblivious to the greedy glares of the birds. Kirkwall had become home.

"Done what?" Isabella inquired.

"This questy thing," I said, "like how we used to do it."

"In the good old days," Anders mocked.

I laughed lightly the liquid sunshine warming my bones, I was in no mood for arguing.  
>"I guess so," I smiled, "God I feel old now."<p>

"You certainly don't look it," Isabella said.

"Thanks Isabella did I ever mention how much I enjoy you're company."

"Oh teasing again, I don't think I can take it. I may have to just ravage you," Isabella said ruefully.

"Will you two just fuck already," Anders said rolling his eyes.

"Oh it'll never happen Anders she's just entertaining me. Everyone knows who she really wants," Isabella teased.

Maker not this again.

"Hey, shouldn't we be setting off? We better hurry and not talk, at all, to make up for lost time," I said dragging Merrill off with me.

Isabella watched her friend talking to Merrill with a curious eye.

She was fond of Fen' Harel. She found her attractive in a strange way, not just her looks but her personality too. She remembered one night in the Hanged Man when the blue eyed elf had been in one of her sombre moods, where she sat quietly watching everyone with a tired curiosity.

"You know, you're probably the best person here Isabella," she had said, "and no one here knows it, especially you."

Then she'd left. Isabella would always remember it. It had been such a sincere comment without false flattery as if Fen' Harel had stated that Varric was indeed a dwarf or that Dog produced enough slobber in one day to sustain an army of extremely large slugs. At the time Isabella had completely disagreed with the statement but she was starting to believe now, if only a tiny bit.

Of course that had been when she and Anders were at least civil, now Hawke couldn't leave the pair alone for more than an hour without someone stabbing someone. Isabella's feet were beginning to get itchy; she longed to be off, too long away from the open sea made her restless and uneasy. Maybe she'd take Fen' Harel with her, the little half elf could sail now and she'd certainly keep Isabella entertained. But of course where Fen' Harel went Fenris wasn't far behind keeping a protective eye on her and vice versa. Isabella wasn't exactly sure what had happened between the two but something definitely had.

"Maybe it was similar to me and Hawke?" she mused but hastily rejected the idea. She couldn't see either of them doing that to one another especially now that it had seemed to hurt both of them. Isabella felt another pang of guilt at leading Hawke on but she'd thought he would have known what to expect from her. She should've have known differently. After all it was Hawke everything with him was different. He always thought you could be someone more than you were. She couldn't work out if it was one of his faults or strengths.

Oh, pissing hell not another cave. I groaned. I seemed to spend alot of time underground, it was clammy and stank of decaying vegetation, fun times.

"C'mon Erin," Merrill said while good naturedly pulling on my arm as I scowled in the cave mouth.

"Just give me a second," I told her, mustering my courage.

"Oh I almost forgot. You don't like going underground to you?"

Understatement of the year.

"No, it unnerves me slightly but I'm coming, you go ahead."

"Okay," she smiled before disappearing into the cavern.

I sighed, and sucked in breath. I must have been there awhile, thinking of nothing in particular because I zoned out and Hawke had to come up to check if I were okay.

"Fen' Harel?" he asked.

"Yes, sorry Hawke, lost for a moment then," I smiled.

"Do you need to go?" he asked. He didn't say it impatiently or snap but asked me as if it were a genuine question and I found myself wondering again why he put up with me.

"And miss out on the cavey fun to be had, never!" I grinned following him into the darkness.

For the first few passages there was nothing but giant spiders. We'd all encountered them enough to be efficient in cleaning the creatures from our path without any fuss at all. To be honest I rushed through them. I was curious about the assassin, especially because he was a crow. They'd always fascinated me and I was quite interested in meeting one for myself. I imagined some form of a ghost like being, who could materialize and dematerialize in the time it took to blink, who hardly uttered a word lest they're presence be known and who lived by a rigid set of codes until they were more machine than human.

The mass of spiders began to thin and scurry off into the darker recesses of the cave. This could only mean one thing there was something bigger in here with us. My question was almost immediately answered as we strolled warily into the next cavern. It was by far the largest of them and seemed to be the heart of the network of burrowing passages. There blocking the few strangled beams of light from the cavern roof, towered a Vaterell. From its hinged jaw ripped a strange whining roar like two rocks scraping against one another. The Vaterell lifted its head glowering down at us from two tiny black holes. It began to move awkwardly towards us on serrated stick like legs, as if the creature itself was surprised by its huge, armoured body. I almost felt sorry for it. It looked like some pitiful Frankenstein creation that had been moulded from the earth.

Hawke grunted as he unleashed a spiralling ball of ice into the creature's face, an action which elected another whining screech and meant that the Vaterell was now lunging towards us lazily with its barbed legs bared. We dodged, Hawke, Isabella and Anders on one side, me and Merrill on the other. Suddenly the creature hissed and strange, green mucus began to seep from its armoured shell.

"Watch out!" Merrill called pulling me from the substance.

I was thankful she was there as there was a cry from Hawke's direction as the acidic cloud caught them unaware. Satisfied with its work on the others, the Vaterell turned its attention to us. The creature by no means was unintelligent; it spotted Merrill focusing on her as a major threat and began to advance, tossing me lazily aside with one powerful swipe.

I gave a grunt as I was sent skidding into the dirt, thrown across the cavern like a ragdoll. My legs and arms burnt from sliding across the hard floor, but the irritating, burning sensation was the least of my problems. The Vaterell had Merrill backed against a wall, despite her efforts. I could clearly see at least five clear hexes crushing it down but it kept coming, withstanding an unearthly amount of pain.

Merrill weaved yet another hex of Torment, managing to keep her cool despite the creature that was almost bearing down on her. I scooped up Sofia, running low I passed Hawke and Anders that we're still trying to cure the thick substance that was eating away at their flesh while Isabella flung smoke bombs in a hope of confusing the Vaterell. I danced away from one leg as it shifted, just managed to dart out of the way of the second that came swinging towards me. Tightening Sofia to spear form I ducked and slid to stand before the Vaterell's cavernous jaw and thrust defiantly upwards.

Instead of having the desired effect of piercing the Vaterell's brain, I found to my dismay that the blade had only made its way through its jaw and lodged itself there. In other words I was now attached to a very pissed Vaterell.

"Oh shit," I managed as the Vaterell reared upwards. I clung to Sofia, thankful for the Templars brutal training despite the fierce burning in my arms.

"Merrill!" I shouted in hope of some aid.

I heard a grunt behind me as a huge boulder was flung through the air, shattering against the Vaterell's shielded chest sending a shower of pieces of rock against my side. I twisted to my right as Merrill sent another boulder to my left, just missing my shoulder. She was beating the Vaterell backwards so it wouldn't smear me against the cave wall.

"Thanks," I called, hoping she'd hear we over yet another rock missile cracking open.

Just when I was far enough away I shouted to Merrill, "Can you use Sleep? I'm sure I can kill it, just one more spell."

But I was replied by a very weary Merrill panting, "Can't, sorry, can't.

Hawke's always had an uncanny talent for coming to the rescue just in the nick of time, and it didn't seem to fail in this situation. It was just then that he managed to recover enough to pull the Vaterell under.

The gigantic body went limp, crumbing downwards. I planted my feet on the ground and braced myself as the Vaterell's huge head crashed down onto the spear (and me unfortunately) finally driving it through the armoured skull and leaving it protruding slightly from the top. I coughed as dust swept through the cavern in the wake of Vaterell's death. Carefully removing Sofia from the carcass I stood, swiping dust from my clothing before smiling triumphantly at Hawke.

"Now you, I wasn't expecting," came a voice.

And almost leisurely the assassin strolled in view in the same manner a shopper would stroll through Low town market. The first thing I thought of was how the sun catches off the water at the Docks. Rather than smoke and shadows the very definition of this assassin was sun kissed. Bronze skin, stretched over a taunt frame, the assassin's golden hair was pulled away from golden eyes the colour of Honey beer, rich and warm. He was handsome with a charming smile that flashed a set of perfect teeth. But the golds of the assassin only made me wish for the silvers of Fenris.

"How do you do? My name is Zeveran Arannai, adventurer and occasional assassin," the assassin bowed slightly. Definitely not the type I expected, but I had to admit the man had charisma, it was hard to dislike his charm. Maybe that's why he was successful; I could see how easy it would be to drop your guard around him.

"I've heard about you. You helped the Hero of Fereldan stop the Blight," Anders piped up, running a curious eye over Zeveran.

"At your service my friend," Zeveran beamed, blasting us all with another attack of holy, pearly teeth, "I must admit I was waiting for an assault by the Crows, not the mighty Champion of Kirkwall."

"I've been hired to find and capture you," Hawke said folding his arms across his broad chest as though he were trying to protect himself from Zeveran's charm offensive.

"Ahh let me guess: a man named Nuncio has asked you to capture a dangerous criminal yes? What did he say this time? That I killed his wife? Butchered his parents? Sold his children into slavery?" the assassin began pacing growing increasingly angry. Everyone tensed slightly with our hands resting on our weapons.

"Or did he tell you he was a lawman from Antiva, charged with apprehending a ridiculously handsome fugitive?"Zeveran asked bitterly.

"I suppose you aren't a murderer at all then," Hawke sighed.

"Oh indeed I am!" Zeveran surprised me by seeming almost excited at the statement, "But technically I imagine everyone here can rightfully claim that title."

No-one was capable of arguing with that, so no one bothered. Even Hawke who was the annual pin-up of all that was good had brutally beheaded the Arishok in front of a room full of people.

"Bring me to Nuncio if you wish but I warn you, he surely intends to kill you. The crows do not like loose ends, unlike myself. But you are a man who can clearly handle herself, yes? Why worry? So you can either tie me up, gag me then manhandle me ...or you can take me to Nuncio which will it be, I wonder? " Zeveran said this as though he was particularly fussed either way. I half expected him to get out a book and begin skimming through it just to empathize his disinterest, another copy of 'below the deck' maybe?

"I'm not going to hand you over," Hawke said as though it had been obvious all along.

"As a suggestion you may wish to deal with Nuncio, if you don't he will come after you. It's been more than a pleasure my dear champion. Fare you well."

Then the assassin left.

We headed back to deal with Nunico. Fortunately the assassin, Zeveran, made a reappearance and helped put the Antivian assassins down. I'd forgotten how difficult fighting assassins was; they were cunning, quick and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Mages were easy, they always thought they were invincible and commonly made the fatal mistake of underestimating everyone but other mages. But rogues they never underestimated, if anything they always overestimated. This meant fighting assassins was relying on catching them before they caught you. One of the tricky little snakes managed to get their blade in deep before I could kick him to the dust and spear his heart. I winced, pulling the toothpick dagger from my side. One more centimetre upwards and a centimetre deeper and the bastard would've pierced my lung. The knowledge of this however didn't stop the draining ache from the wound. Maker, I hoped the blade wasn't poisoned. I held to my nose and inhaled no poison thankfully. Throwing the dagger aside and straightening despite the sting I attempted to hide my wound from Hawke as he thanked the assassin.

Isabella had been remarkably quiet throughout the whole escapade, wearing a smug grin instead, finally spoke up. Apparently she knew Zeveran...very well. Well enough to do despicable things to one another while we waited. Maker, I couldn't even begin to describe the noises. Merrill placed both fingers in her ears and began to hum loudly while I tried not to wet myself with laughter as one of the bodies in the tent started making Mabari noises while the other growled. Hawke and Anders stood nearby awkwardly, trying to imagine anything other than what might be going on in that tent. They were in there for three hours, I was surprised neither had died from exhaustation and debated asking the pair as they emerged looking very pleased with themselves. I decided against it in cause they went into detail and ended up scarring me for life.

"Well we better head back to Kirkwall," Isabella said as Zeveran departed.

"Sure you can still walk?" I muttered.

Isabella just laughed.

I bathed as soon as we got back to the Hawke estate. Washing the grime and stink of the cavern from my skin, allowing the hot water to melt my bones and strip the tension from my skin. I inspected the wound also. The assassins blade had left a small pinhole in my side just below the ribcage. I ran a hand over it, tensing as pain shot up my side. Why hadn't I shown Hawke? He could've healed the wound in a matter of minutes but instead I'd decided to hide it from him. No matter how hard my brain tried to formulate an answer it couldn't. Sighing I rose from the steaming water, towled myself dry and dressed in the noble clothes Leandra had given all those years ago when we'd first moved into the Hawke estate. I froze, trying to fight the rising tide of longing. Not the same ache I felt for Fenris that was almost a physical yearning but a different kind. Leandra was ended, a thought that dismayed me, there would never be Leandra again, and I'd never see her again. I decided to write to Carver. Maker, I missed him too. One day I promised I'd see visit him, he'd already given me an address, me and Hawke could easily gain passage to Amarthine.

When I'd finished writing to Carver, I thought it was about time to see Fenris.

A/N:

Another chapter. I hoped you enjoyed. If you hadn't noticed I've changed my picture tag thingy to a drawing I did of Fen' Harel. I did it ages ago when I first started writing this, so her hair's really short like it was at the beginning of the fanfic. Anyway I thought you might like it :D So if you could maybe mention it if you review I'd be grateful.

THANKS FOR READING!


	27. Even wolves sleep peacefully

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Even wolves sleep peacefully.

If you go I will surely die,

We're chained.

From Hey by The Pixies.

I never felt the need to knock. It seemed like such a stupid, mundane thing to do in the hollowed mansion, the noise bounding through empty rooms just stresses the stupidity of the action. However when I stepped into the murky near darkness that afternoon I got the distinct feeling that maybe I should have knocked. Because something in the pit of my stomach sensed that something was wrong.

Climbing the stairs, I tried not to trip over my anxious feet. I was fretting, far more troubled than I thought was right for a person. I couldn't rid my gut of this ugly clawing feeling as though someone was scooping my insides out with their fingers. My brain felt too awake, running over and over again horrible ideas almost electrified with the fear they brought.

As I entered the main room, I noticed that the fire was still blazing but otherwise the room was different. I picked my way around broken debris strewn on the ground like corpses. Someone had torn this place apart. Please, please, please. What was I pleading for? I should've come earlier. Why did I wait three days?

"Thank the Maker," a whisper escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Fenris was fine. Physically fine but maybe not in a fine mood. His eyes flicked up to me as he registered my presence, the deep green burning in the barely lit room. Fenris' face was set in a scowl that indicated a barely contained rage; I could see him struggling with himself almost as if the anger had a physical presence in the room. But for all the power in the world I couldn't draw myself away from those eyes.

"I was wondering when you'd turn up," he announced, still glaring at me.

The way he said it was venomous, almost as if I were some hassle that he was forced to endure. The insecurities rose again with a vengeance. I'd never thought that Fenris was fond of me but I'd supposed that maybe he was at least partial to my company over that of the others. But of course I was stupid to think that, he entertained me because he probably pitied me.

"That's no way to speak to a guest," I smiled weakly.

"You're not a guest, you weren't invited," he growled, smashing open yet another wine bottle.

"Oh, well that's no way to speak to an intruder."

He lifted the wine bottle to his lips. Gulping slowly he began eyeing me hungrily as he did, as if he could see straight through all my clothing and was savouring what he saw. I felt myself melt and harden at the same time, an effect only Fenris was capable of eliciting. He ran one hand over his mouth, never taking his eyes from mine, consuming me relentlessly.

"Why are you here Fen' Harel? What do you want?" Fenris muttered finally breaking the eye contact as he reached for yet another bottle, discarded the half empty one to leak into the tiles. I found myself capable of breathing again.

Instead of answering his question, I decided to glare at him in return. How dare he make me be like this, like some weak little kitten in his company? Why did he make me so weak? Why couldn't I get him out of my head?

"That's no way to treat your host," he smiled wolfishly at me. I felt my fists clench.

"Oh, not speaking now are we?" he asked.

"No we're not," I growled.

That shut him up. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed once again. I felt my hands clenching even tighter. All the pain and frustration pouring from me, I hope my blue eyes burnt him up as much as his green ones managing to crush me. I wanted to kill him almost as much as I wanted to kiss him. What was he doing to me?

"So you came here just to tell me how much you hate me?" Fenris growled pulling the bottle from the table and advancing towards me.

"No! I just want to know!" I raged. We were face to face now, breathing deeply and ready to murder someone. There was a beast raging around inside me, trying to claw its way out.

"Know what Fen' Harel! What do you want from me?" he shouted, smashing the bottle to the floor, it shattered spraying us with shards of glass and wine but neither noticed. We were too lost in mutual anger.

"I want to know what you want from me Fenris! What the fuck do you want?" I screamed.

He grabbed me and roughly crushed his lips to mine. Forcefully crashing them together I dragged him close. It was hungry and desperate, like we were caught in the middle of a storm. Fiercely clutching at one another because close didn't seem close enough. I wanted more; I wanted us to melt together in a fierce, magnificent mess. I wanted him to take me right here and now and without my tenderness just all the maddening pining bursting apart in a delicious, lust ridden chaos.

Fenris broke off. I growled in frustration reaching upwards towards him before I felt his soft lips moving urgently against mine.

"No," he said forcefully pulling his arm from around my waist and removing the one that had begun to move up my shirt. I took my leg from where it had snaked itself up his leg and the arm that was hung over his shoulder.

"Why?" I wanted to whine.

But we just stood there breathing deeply as our hearts began to slow again.

I couldn't do this. It was some form of torture.

I turned to leave but Fenris gripped my arm.

"Please don't leave, don't go," he pleaded. I should've left. 'Should've' but of course it was Fenris asking me to stay.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked in a soft voice, feeling myself soften at Fenris defeated tone.

"I don't know, I don't know what's happening to me," he said miserably, "I'm...feeling things that I..."

He sighed. His confession was shattering. I felt that shock of recognition I always do when someone says something that I was feeling.

"Fenris..." I began weakly but couldn't finish. It felt like my heart were pulling me down, it was almost unbearable, and I felt fragile enough to break apart at any given moment.

"I'll leave you alone, I'm sorry," Fenris muttered eyes to the floor and left disappearing down one of the many corridors.

I was reminded of that night all those years ago.

"All I wanted was to be happy for a little while...forgive me."

And I went dashing after Fenris.

I must have stood alone in the other room longer than I'd first thought because by the time I found Fenris he was rolled on his side sleeping lightly. His eyelids were closed, hiding those green orbs underneath bruised, sensitive skin. His dark eyelashes just brushed the skin underneath. All that tautness and anger and pain had gone leaving only a peaceful almost vulnerable Fenris behind. Fenris' brilliant white hair was a tousled and messy which only made him seem even more trouble-free. His lips were open partially, his sleeping breath easing in and out between the plump skins of his lips. I wanted to reach down and stroke them gently but was loathed to wake him.

I couldn't take my eyes from him. The longer I looked, the more I felt this stillness growing within me. As if the entire world where at ease because the entire world was this, him, sleeping softly.

And it was at that moment I realized I loved Fenris. It was slow, unchangeable, and inescapable like the sun rising each day. I had always loved him but only now was I able to recognize it. It felt as though I was filling slowly with something, something warm and pleasantly indescribable until it was just that left. And still it was spilling inside me, even when there was no room for me left in me. I thought for a moment I might explode with it. Never in my life had I been so fulfilled, so blissfully content that I just didn't know what to do.

So I slipped into the bed, deadly careful not to wake him. And settled down, curling up against his back, I pulled my arms to my chest just so they rested against his spine. His skin was warm and smelt slightly of leather and something else, something comforting. I felt my eyes growing heavy with the steady beat of his heart and the breath pulled in and pushed out. Just as I was drifting off feeling completely safe, content and at ease with myself, Fenris stirred. His back tensed, the muscles tightening in the lean canvas of his body.

"Fen' Harel?" he whispered.

"No, it's Anders," I whispered in return feeling my smile brush against his skin.

He chuckled slightly then sighed.

"Why are you still here?" he asked softly, as softly as I'd ever heard him say something.

"I'm not leaving you alone," I whispered but regretted immediately afterwards because I just realized how stalkerish it sounded, definitely not what I'd meant.

"I...I just meant that...I'm here," I tried to recover but obviously didn't manage very well because I was only met by silence. I froze with indecision. Should I leave? Should I try again? Or should I just stay and say nothing?

"Thank you," Fenris said gruffly.

I barely heard him, I was already falling asleep again but it still bought a smile to my lips. There were no nightmares that night.

A/N:

Aww I hoped you liked it. I'm glad Fen' Harel's _finally_ realized she's in love with Fenris. I was debating making them sleep together again but thought this was better. Next chapter will probably be a flashback or contain a flashback, I haven't decided yet. I'm feeling pretty chilled now... :3 Read and review please, much obliged.

THANKS FOR READING :D :D


	28. Teenage nightmares

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Teenage Nightmares.

I spent nearly every night at Fenris' mansion after that. Even if we hadn't spoke to each other all day and one was already waiting in the bed, the other would climb into the warmth. We spent a week and a half like this until one night I decided to sleep in my own bed after spending all night and early morning up with Varric in fear of waking Fenris. But I instead woke to find Fenris curled up next to me regardless.

A week from this I was stirred from my sleep. Fenris hadn't been in bed when I'd got there, he was probably attending business with Fenris now that Anders was busy with the Mages plight. Fenris had crept into the room while I was sleeping and now sat on the edge of the bed watching me like he'd done all those years ago. But this time instead of wearing a desolate expression, Fenris was smiling affectionately. I felt my heart contract.

"I love you," but no words came out.

Slipping in beside me, Fenris reached out a hand and softly, careful not to wake me, began to brush the hair from my face. His eyes were just watching me with an intense, adoring, possessiveness that I thought my heart would burst. That was the first time I even considered that Fenris might love me back. It was a side I hadn't seen and in selfish wished that no one else had and ever would. Fenris' fingers moved from my hair to my lips, trembling slightly. I parted them for him and opened my eyes. I watched him with what I hoped was the same strength as he'd watched me, trying to pour everything into my eyes. Fenris leaned forward closing his eyes, I did the same and that was how we spent the night together again. Waking still twisted and twined together. There were no nightmares that night, he told me.

If Hawke noticed or was bothered by my absence he didn't mention it. He was busy dealing with the fallout of my actions apparently. While working with Meredith, I'd managed to cause far more trouble fore the Mages Plight than the Templars had managed in the last six years of my time at Kirkwall. Anders absolutely hated my guts so he was overjoyed at my lack of presence at the Hawke Estate. He was less overjoyed when he found out where I was sleeping. Not that it was any of his pissing business.

I was just opening the door to Hawke Estate when I found the last thing I would have expected to see. Hawke was entertaining a Templar; they were sitting opposite one another with tea discussing the weather. At least it looked like they were discussing the weather; I could almost imagine the conversation.

"The weather's been lovely recently."

"Oh yes quite splendid."

"Perfect weather for mage hunting."

"I should imagine so, too warm for those little critters to surive long without water."

"Indeed."

Hawke looked up at me with that ever gentle smile.

"Hello, Fen' Harel," he said.

"Hey Hawke," I replied. And I swear I saw the Templar stiffen. His back was facing me but I could almost sense him tense up.

The Templar coughed politely and rose from his chair, his amour clinking and scraping clumsily against the wood of the chair.

"Thank you for the tea Serah Hawke," he said.

"Thank you for listening," Hawke smiled.

Just then the Templar turned to me, nodded briskly and tried to leave. But it was too late. I was already shocked by the sensation of recognition. I'm sure I'd seen him before. I strained to pull the images from my brain.

"Wait," I said stepping in front of him, "I'm sure we've met before."

"You must be mistaken Serah," the Templar said uncomfortably. He looked tired, exhausted almost but otherwise he was handsome. With a strong jaw and nose, his hair was curled tightly atop his head. Where had I seen him? I glowered suspiciously at him awhile as he shifted uneasily under my gaze but didn't break eye contact.

"I'm sorry I must be mistaken. Please accept my apology Ser," I said bowing slightly and allowing him to make his escape.

"What was that about Fen' Harel," Hawke asked when we were sure the door was shut behind the Templar.

"I wouldn't let him back in the mansion Hawke," I said glaring after the retreated Knight.

Because I knew now where I recognized him from. That Templar was from Fereldan.

Fen' Harel aged 17:

"The Maker loves his children."

I stood head bowed, watching the rain pool in the dirt near my bent knees. It reeked of dirt and heavy incense. I felt like puking.

"The Maker loves his children."

I could hear my heart beating in my ears. It amazed me that it was still capable of movement. The cold didn't bother me. I was cold, I was ice, and I was dead. Why did I have a pulse when I was incapable of feeling anything anymore?

"The Maker loves his children," the sister blessed me as I rose to my feet. I would have scoffed before; the Maker didn't give a shit about his children but not now. The words meant nothing now she might as well have said blue is blue.

"The Maker loves his children."

The sister has moved on, sweeping past in a suffocating cloud of incense. She began blessing the next recruit in line. I could feel their eyes on me, staring at me like a child stares at a serial killer through the bars of their cage. I didn't feel anything about, the expected absolute nothingness that had become my constant companion.

"Brothers and Sisters of the Flaming Sword," Ser Degan rose to stand before me and the others. He had a habit of standing anywhere where he could look down on his subjects. There were very few of them; they were the elite Templars trained to hunt only the most dangerous apostates.

"Today is a great day..."

The noise of his voice faded, only the raindrops sounded heavy. They were so heavy, beating down on everything.

"...together we will be glorious. Together we will defend the innocent. Together we can do this!"

The others cheered. I wished they'd be quiet. I longed for silence.

"To business," Ser Degan said clearing his throat, "today we have been given the task of retaining and eliminating two powerful maleficars."

"The first Jowan has already demonstrated his powers while escaping; the other Niera Surana has yet to use her blood magic and must therefore be treated with the most care. Therefore I am sending you Fen' Harel after the elf mage while the others track Jowan."

"Understood," I said.

I bowed before leaving.

This mage was clever. She kept from the roads, didn't use magic and didn't go to the nearest tavern. But she was easy to track. They usually were. I kept running, she had a day on me but I wasn't to return until the mage was dead. She kept moving, making camp at night and running during the day in no particular direction, never stopping. Clever little mage.

I finally caught up with her near the Brecilin forest. She'd probably hoped to find sanctuary among the Dalish. The mage was tucked up underneath the roots of a grand Oak. The autumnal leaves blanketing the dirt in a mixture of muddy oranges, reds and yellows. They made no sound underneath my feet, not the dry crackle of them breaking underneath the mage's sleeping body. I think she sensed me because two silver eyes flicked open. Tired eyes scanned the treeline frantically.

"I know your there," she called, voice unwavering despite fear that was obviously gripping her.

I waited unsheathing my blade in spear form and holding it close. She scrambled from her sleeping place, pulling her staff up to protect herself. She edged forwards on unsteady feet with eyes darting in every direction. I waited.

She was just creeping into the tree line. Almost there. Her breaths condensing in the cold silence that seeped into the forest, almost as if even the trees were holding their breath. Then, suddenly I lunged, pushing the spear up trough her body to reach her heart. Silver eyes flew open in surprise.

The birds flew from the trees in a flurry of wings and startled calls. I couldn't move. It seemed the mage had managed to cast one final spell before death. I stood there frozen blade still deep in the little body frozen against me. The cold didn't bother me. I was cold, I was ice, and I was dead.

A/N:

There we go another chapter. It took me awhile to write this. I wasn't sure what to do with it. I decided that I'd just write about what Fen' Harel was like while working for the Templars. I was replaying Origins as Niera Surana and I wondered what it'd be like if she escaped without Duncan. Then I wondered what it'd be like if Fen' Harel was the Templar sent to catch her. Anyway reviews are welcome as always.

THANKS FOR READING =3 =D


	29. Merrill the master of sarcasm

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Merrill the master of sarcasm.

(The above statement is sarcastic.)

All I wanted was a chance to say,

I would like to see you in the morning.

Rolling over just to have you there,

Make it easier for a little bit longer.

From The Fear by Travis.

"So how is he?"

"How is who at what?" I asked Isabella as she smirked up at me from her designated haunt at the bar.

"How's Fenris beneath the sheets?" she asked. I felt myself turn painfully red.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied retrieving the round from the bartender.

Isabella laughed. She was pissing loving this.

"Oh c'mon Fen' Harel, kiss and tell. Anyway no one can hear us here," Isabella glanced across at Fenris who was trying hard to pretend he wasn't listening.

"Well if you must know, he's very disappointing. He grunts all the time, doesn't believe in _any_ foreplay and is excessively unimaginative. Varric was far better."

"What!" Fenris snapped angrily.

I just laughed.

The world felt different at the moment. Somehow brand new, as if the sun had only been born today. I knew for a fact that the world hadn't changed at all, but I had. It looked different now I was looking at it through different eyes.

Fenris' POV:

I watched as she leaned in to whisper in Isabella's ear keeping her eyes on me the entire time. Little minx. I tried to scowl but a smile kept creeping in instead.

"Fenris," I snapped back into focus. Hawke had been talking to me again.

"I'm sorry Hawke," I apologized, hoping he hadn't followed my line of sight but of course someone else had.

"He was too busy staring at Fen' Harel," Merrill smiled sweetly. Blasted blood mage and her beady bloody eyes.

"I wasn't," I growled hoping not to be put through yet another round of teasing from Kirkwalls murderous flower child.

"You were. I saw you. You're always making goo goo eyes at her when her backs turned," Merrill sighed almost wistfully.

"I do not make goo goo eyes!" I retorted, glaring at her.

"You do! Huge great goo goo eyes. The high dragon of all goo goo eyes," she continued regardless.

"I do NOT make..."

"I think it's quite sweet really," she interrupted me; I felt my jaw clench, "Aww Fenris is in looovvvveee."

"Yes of course Merrill, you're the only one for me and this was a scheme to make you jealous," I spat sarcastically but of course the sarcasm was lost on Merrill.

She stared at me in confusion.

"Oh Maker, no," I groaned.

"I'm quite surprised by this Fenris. I'm flattered but you're not my type and even if you were it'd be unfair on poor Fen' Harel."

I don't think anyone had ever described Fen' Harel as 'poor Fen' Harel' before. Even after all that mess with her father three years ago.

"Yes Merrill I've always had a strong attraction for mages. Blood mages being by far my favourites."

Merrill gave another confused look before Hawke had to describe the concept of sarcasm to her for both our sakes. Their was some truth to what she was saying though. I couldn't take my eyes of Fen' Harel.

"How in Andraste's flaming tits did she manage that?" Fen' Harel mused as I pulled her home. She wasn't drunk at the moment just unsteady on her feet. The elf couldn't hold her drink, it was a well known fact yet she still insisted on attempting to keep up with Varric through sheer stubborn determination. I had to admit I wasn't exactly stone cold sober myself.

"She must have some form of...of...of device somewhere," Fen' Harel schemed. I was content to let her talk; she was in one of those moods. It would have taken the Archdemon itself to shut her up now.

"Or an accomplice. Yes! A co-conspirator, maybe Merrill. I could see Merrill breaking under Isabella's wiry, wiry charms. We must comfort her at once."

I smiled to myself as Fen' Harel plotted away completely oblivious to the real world. She was dear to me. That night when...it was difficult to explain what had happened but something had definitely shifted. I'd never been that close to someone, not physically and not emotionally, and I'd never felt someone that close to me. It was as difficult to explain as it was to sort out how I felt. But she had been there with an unwavering loyalty. For the first time since I could remember, I didn't feel alone anymore.

"Are we going home?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You know Fenris," she looked up at me with huge eyes and a wicked grin, "I'm feeling ever so cold."

"Is that so?" I asked mimicking her smirk. No one was like Fen' Harel in bed. An image floated into my head of her barely clothed on my bed, eyes unfocused in deliria and breathing heavy and hungry. I loved the way that I was the only one capable of getting her to that state, and the only one who ever would. It was the same dark, animalistic urgency she awoke in me.

"Yes, I'm so cold."

"We can't have that."

"No, we can't," she smiled brushing her lips against mine. Skin to skin contact was one of the best things about being alive. I could feel her heart beating through her skin, feel the blood running through her veins, feel her living. As always there was that current crackling underneath my skin when we touched.

"I better get back to the estate then and get the fire going maybe see if Anders is in," she laughed slightly as she broke the kiss and turned towards the direction of the Hawke Estate.

I growled in frustration, grabbing her wrist and dragging the laughing Fen' Harel into the mansion. I found that I was laughing too.

There were no nightmares when I slept. I dreamt of Trevinter but this time without the blood. I dreamt of wine drenched sunlight, flashes of tiny, children bodies as they danced and played in a fountain weathered green and beige by the heat and water. I dreamt of warmth, of a mother singing me to sleep and a world light with only a child's worries. I dreamt of me, a younger me without scars and a girl with bright hair playing.

"C'mon," she smiled pointing towards a partially opened door where an elegant woman stood, waiting for us patiently, her face blocked from my view as she shielded her eyes from the tender sunlight. I felt more than saw her smile affectionately. Mother. I wished I could see her eyes.

"Leto," the girl called laughing.

Her voice was like some far away sound as if she'd called to me from the other side of a cave. I felt myself look behind me. And there was Fen' Harel there, as I'd always imagined her as a child. She was barefoot, clothes slightly too big, her jaw and nose not yet strong but softer in childhood. The same eyes though, the same startling blue, and the same smile but slightly more open and carefree in that younger face. I smiled, offering her a hand and felt her palm slip against mine, the fingers clasping round to grip me tightly.

"C' mon," the girl called. I suddenly remembered her name. Varianna. My sister.

Just as I began to run towards that open door, pulling Fen' Harel behind me I awoke. The memories began to scatter back to the darker unknown parts of my mind but the warmth remained. It filled my belly like the exact emotion I'd been trying to capture every night with fire and wine. A bitter sweet mix of love and longing, happiness and sadness. This wasn't the first time I'd dreamt of Varianna. Hadrianna's words had spread like poison, eating me up with the thought that I could maybe know _something_ of who I was. Finding her hadn't been easy but at last I'd managed to. But now I had the information I was torn by the indecision to act on it. It felt as though I was standing on a cliff edge and it was my decision whether to leap or not.

"Hrmm," Fen' Harel murmured in her sleep, pulling me back from dark thoughts.

There she was again, pulling me from the cliff edge or preparing herself to jump with me. I settled back, feeling her eyelashes tinkle my neck and her chest rising and falling with each breath. We weren't constantly touching one another like Anders and Hawke but we had our moments. While Hawke and Anders trawled Lowtown, caressing each others faces, pecking each others cheeks and holding each others hands, me and Fen' Harel had this. Just sleeping. It wasn't that I didn't care but both of us seemed adverted to hanging off one another all the time, saving times like this for privacy. She was so determined not to be one of those mushy people. But Fen' Harel had always been determined when she wanted something.

She could be like that sometimes. She was hard and emotionally cold as ice when you hurt her. She could be temperamental, suddenly changing and was one of the most stubborn people I'd ever met. It took forever for her to even consider trusting you, and if you let her down just once she'd doubt you for what felt like forever. But it was her faults that assisted her strengths. When you did eventually gain her trust Fen' Harel was loyal, almost completely so. She was kind, alot kinder than people first expected, to the people she cared for and a sucker for a charity case. She was strange but always made me laugh because it seemed that life was barely serious to her outwardly.

Fen' Harel frowned and muttered in her sleep. I wondered what she was dreaming. I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered if she dreamt about me like I dreamt about her. I wondred if she thought about me like I thought about her. Or most importantly if she felt about me like I felt about her. I wasn't sure what it was called but it was like drowning without the pain, totally beautifully submerged.

Tomorrow, I decided as if almost from nowhere, tomorrow I'd ask Hawke.

"You asked to see me Knight Commander?"

"Yes Ser Cullen, I'm sure you're aware of our schedule by now and what I expect of you," the Knight Commander cast one steel eye casually over the Templar. She flicked open a book and seated herself, indifferently scanning the words before her.

"Yes of course, Knight Commander my report," he said staring straight ahead, hoping that his lack of eye contact suggested rigid discipline (something he did posses) rather than his reluctance to meet his superior's cutting gaze. She looked like what some imagined the Templar order would if incarnated. Stronge, noble, unyielding and indomitable but Cullen believed she lacked something. She lacked a kindness, a human compassion for the people they were ordered to protect. He was only beginning to see it now and it felt as if the blinkers prejudice and hatred had given him were finally shaking loose. However it didn't mean he was completely free yet.

"Well?" the Knight Commander asked slowly turning a page.

Cullen cleared his throat, "at first Knight Commander, we were unsure of her whereabouts..."

"What do you mean you were unsure of her whereabouts?" she interrupted Ser Cullen sharply.

"...well she is no longer residing at the Hawke Estate Knight Commander, but has in fact found lodging with someone else."

The Knight Commander chewed on this new information, pondering its effects and the possibility of it being the reason behind her own problem with the Templar weapon.

"Who?" she inquired.

"Another elf. He's one of Hawke's companions. They're thought to be lovers."

Meredith knew who he was speaking of. One of the two Hawke had brought into her office while his other companions waited outside. The silver haired elf who'd conveyed information about the escaped mage. Obivousily he wasn't the cause behind this.

"Are your men ready to detain Fen' Harel at my order Ser Cullen?"

"Yes, as always Knight Commander."

Cullen hesitated before asking, "Knight Commander if I may inquire?"

Meredith's head snapped up as if she'd just realized that he still hadn't left her office.

"Why the sudden urgency?" Cullen asked, unsure whether he had over stepped the mark.

"The subject has refused to continue with our previous arrangements. I told you when I first gave you the task that if this were to become the case, you were to detain her and bring her to my custody."

"Yes...but if I may be bold Commander, does she not have the option of a life of her own? Isn't that what the Maker granted to all of us? And we are here to serve the Maker."

Meredith's eyes raked Cullen with a cold distaste as if she had just come across something particularly troublesome.

"No, we are here to serve the people of Kirkwall foremost. The subject should not be considered as a ordinary person, she is not. If I were to command her to do so Ser Cullen she would rip open the throat of a baby. She is a weapon Ser Cullen, not a simple half breed elf. Now I have work to be done, you are dismissed."

Cullen bowed to his superior, her words ringing in his ears. "She is a weapon Ser Cullen." He remembered meeting her in the entrance of Hawke's Estate and for a minute he could believe it.

"Yes Knight Commander."

A/N:

Every time I write about Meredith I want to put an evil laugh in mid sentence :S .I know not much happened but I just wanted to make sure that I established that Fen' Harel and Fenris are in a relationship...even if it is a bit of a strange one. I hoped you liked it. I'm a bit worried that I might have made it too sweet for them both but they love each other and I wasn't sure how to write it while desperately worrying about losing their character -_- So feedback would be really welcome on this chapter please. Thanks for reading, I hope your enjoying it.

THANK YOU ALL! :D


	30. I fell down some stairs

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

I fell down some stairs. 

"Please Hawke, I really need you with me on this," Fenris glanced up at Hawke reproachfully. As if there had ever been any doubt. I was already lacing my gauntlets on tight. Fenris had already spoken to me about his sister and once again I wondered as if there had ever been any doubt. I was just surprised he'd asked. I'd been practically living at Fenris' mansion for the last two months. When I did enter the Hawke estate I felt more like I was visiting rather than coming home. But I suppose it didn't really feel like home anymore, not the way it had with Carver and Leandra. Plus the last time I'd visited Hawke, he hadn't been in only Anders. That hadn't ended well, I did try to leave but the dickhead demanded I explain my feelings towards Mages. Long story short, I'd thrown a chair at his head and tried to decapitate him with the Amell Crest shield while he chased me down with fireballs.

I missed the books and Hawke's company but that was it. And the amount of Templars prowling around there made me jumpy, especially after I noticed that one from Fereldan. Meredith was up to something, it wouldn't be long before I asked Hawke to join me while I comforted her. I couldn't see how he could refuse after I'd ceased talking to her for him. Not that I told him this but it pained me to see Hawke so divided over it. He seemed constantly caught between me and Anders and it wasn't fair, I couldn't do that to him. Not that me and Anders were immediately besties afterwards. It seemed the damage was already done by that point. But I by no means helped the Mages Plight. I still hunted blood mages when I came across them, just without the Templars orders. I couldn't just let them stroll by when they reeked of blood magic and the images of Blackwater were playing so clearly in my head.

It was a relatively small group of us that entered the Hanged Man early that morning, just me, Anders, Aveline, Hawke and of course Fenris. It was too early to run around waking everyone up and I think Fenris wanted the least amount of attention possible. It was so tense. I almost half expected him to wrap around himself. There was nothing I could do to relax him though, he had to see his sister, know it wasn't a trap and hopefully see Anders spontaneously combust for that to happen. I was excited though, nervous and slightly uptight but excited too. I wanted to see his sister. See some part of Fenris' hidden past.

"Varianna?"

And the name carried so much uncertainty and weight that I knew immediately who Fenris was addressing because she was the only person here that mirrored that uncertainty. And she was the only elf in the Hanged Man.

"Leto?"

Almost immediately everyone present knew something was wrong. When you spend half of your time getting caught into traps you learn to realize when one's been sprung. My eyes darted anxiously towards Fenris as a horrible knot tightened in my gut. "Run!" my brain was screaming, "Run!" I could smell Lyrium and blood, the scent thick and suffocating even among the common acrid odours that graced the Hanged Man. But Fenris didn't seem to notice he was intent on Varianna as if the world had suddenly tunnelled to her and he was incapable of seeing the rest.

"Fenris," I whispered furiously trying to spark a reaction.

And then he noticed it.

"What is it? What did you do?" he asked Hawke reaching to draw his weapon.

"It's a trap."

"Well, well, well," came a voice I froze heart pounding in my chest like a snared rabbits. The presence of magic was almost crushing, there had to be at least three accomplice mages, "if it isn't my little wolf."

Fenris was immobilized, almost as if the very veil had torn and every demon and nightmare he'd ever faced were presenting themselves to him now. I felt my heart shrink at the fear dripping from him; I was standing so close I thought I could feel it seeping into me. Almost instinctively Fenris grasped my hand, crushing it tightly, I don't think even he was aware of what he was doing.

"Danarius," he whispered.

And the ground dropped beneath us.

"I've been watching your progress little wolf," Danarius smiled through inhumanly clean teeth, "you've done quite well for yourself."

He sweep greedy eyes over both of us and I was reminded of a spoilt child who'd just seen a new toy he fancied. I gripped Fenris' hand back.

"New friends," Danarius picked a piece of imaginary thread from his robes, "and a new master."

"Your quite popular," Danarius' lips curled back to reveal perfect white teeth. I moved almost unintentionally in front of Fenris, not enough for him to notice but enough to act as his shield if need be. My hand moved to rest lightly on Sofia at my hip, her presence radiating comfort and familiarity. It was an unspoken truth that one of them would die this morning and I intended to do everything in my power to ensure it wasn't Fenris.

"Hawke," I whispered, "shouldn't we be stabbing him by now, preferably in the groin then through his gigantic, moon like head."

"Charming," Danarius smiled, "Evelyn Wulfhere I believe. Not to my tastes little wolf but she has her own charm. However I would like to offer you a deal Serah Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall…"

"I know who I am and I'm not interested in what you have to say," Hawke interrupted already reaching for his staff. I kept my eye fixed on the archer that was keeping a trained eye and a combustible arrow on the area between Hawke and Fenris' feet.

"Ah, that's quite rude Serah I expected better manners from you. As I was saying, I have a transaction you maybe interested in…"

There was a strangled burst of noise as Danarius disappeared and Fenris' naked blade lay where he had been. Before Danarius' guards could even begin to register what had happened Sofia came whipping from her place at my side and straight into the face of the archer, his combustible arrow exploding into a plume of flame as it and its owner were sent crashing into the wall.

A shout went up as the nearby bodyguards were swallowed in the flame and the others skipped away from its fiery grasp. But by then Hawke, Aveline, Anders, Fenris and I were already throwing ourselves into the conflict.

I pushed the bar of Sofia into Danarius' nearest bodyguard, causing him to fall under the sudden, quick impact and pierced his stomach with Sofia's blade. But rather than searching out the mages like I usually did I found myself targeting Fenris as he barreled dangerously through the bodyguards and towards Danarius. He didn't even stop, didn't look or think or seem to care instead carrying that fierce determination similar to a hound so near to the kill.

"Danarius!" He raged, eyes filled with bloodlust and fixed on one particular mage. He mounted the stairs, pushing and pulling the armed bodyguards aside. They stumbled but regained their balance fixing their attention and their weapons towards Fenris' back.

"Shit," I breathed slipping in after him. I swing Sofia into the back of the nearest yanking his squirming body to the floor as I too climbed the stairs.

"Fen' Harel!" Aveline called after me as she and the others were left to dispatch the army of bodyguards and their mage employers.

I hadn't managed three steps before the pommel of the second bodyguards sword came crashing onto my cheekbone. I felt the flesh burst and bruise under the fierce swing. Andraste's flaming tits that hurt! Seething I managed to evade the second blow and brought Sofia spiraling towards him as he lunged too far forward but almost as soon as one was down another sprung up in their place. With my cheek already swelling into what felt like a bruise the size of my face, I engaged the third bodyguard by darting Sofia in spear form towards her face. She swatted Sofia away with her shield before I could pull her up and pierce the bodyguard's arm. She shrieked, shield slipping from her hands and I took the opportunity to press Sofia through her neck.

Pain.

Red hot and sticky, it festered at my side. Crying out I tried to strangle the scream as the pain and surprise caught me. Instinctively I moved a hand to my side but sucked in air through my teeth as the skin flamed viciously where I made contact. They were wet with something. It was blood. My blood.

I jerked an elbow backwards hitting the assassin in the abdomen but the action, while stunning the assassin slightly, only made my wound sear more. Shit they'd got me. A blade had been expertly sunk in and underneath the rib cage, narrowly missing a lung before I could even notice its presence. I moved; clutching the blade of Sofia in my hand as the chain hung limp. The assassin however was ready and in a succession of silver flashes that almost managed to cut my throat.

Panting I was flung against a wall. Maker, my side hurt. I could already feel the blood seeping through my clothes into a large crimson patch. I was too far out of reach for Anders to heal me and he was far too preoccupied with supporting Aveline and Hawke to notice me. I cast a look across at Fenris. The others were closing in; I didn't have time to heal myself. I needed to slug it through. I could do this, Maker I'd been in worse conditions. With my spare hand I gripped my side, pressuring the burning skin. Shit that hurt. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The assassin moved to kick my feet beneath me but their foot tangled in Sofia's chain. I sprinted to the left, bringing down the assassin who broke his neck as his head cracked against the wall behind him. Leaning against the wall, I ran the next few steps swinging Sofia into the face of another who managed to kick at me desperately as she plummeted down the stairs. One more to go. I had to stop a moment and suck in breath. I felt light headed but as if my head were made of stone at the same time, an effect that was entirely dizzying. The more I moved the more I bled. The more I bled, the more I hurt.

Fenris was already battling Danarius. He shrugged off fire and ice just with sheer drive to rip his former magister's heart from his chest. I'd have loved to do myself. Rip his bastarding heart out and while it's still beating stamp it into a pulp for what he'd done to Fenris. But I knew he wanted it more. This is what he'd been living for.

"Hey," my voice sounded weak and brittle like burnt leaves as I called over the last bodyguard. He's head swiveled round and spotted me grimacing from the top of the stairs my left side of my stomach and thigh blooming with dark crimson. Neither Fenris nor Danarius noticed but my intended target did. Spotting what seemed to him to be easy prey he charged hoping to knock me back down the stairs I'd just climbed. I evaded but just as my body twisted away, the wound tore open more of my skin and I instinctively began to double with the pain.

It was then that Danarius emitted a final blast of powerful force that lifted my air born body and flung me aside, dragging me down with the bodyguard as we hurtled down the stairs. I screamed. Each step felt like another knife in my already agonizing side. White, hot pain that almost pushed all other thought and all other feeling from my head laced my body. Screaming I fell broken and writhing as we crashed to the floor of the Hanged Man.

"Pissing, bastarding, shitting asshole!" I seethed pulling myself from the dead body that cushioned my fall and gulping down Minor Health Potions as if they were bottled rainbows. The pain began to subside but didn't disappear entirely instead becoming smaller, constant lapping waves compared to great drowning waves.

"Fen' Harel!" Aveline came over helping me haul my aching body to its feet.

"Are you okay?" she asked sternly meeting my gaze with serious eyes. While I never understood Aveline, I respected the guardswoman though I'd never let her know of course and I couldn't be more thankful for the strong frame to lean against than at that moment.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I smiled weakly, "just fell down the stairs."

"Fen' Harel?" Fenris asked casting a concerned eye from the landing, "are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Stop babying me," I reprimanded.

Relieved he drew his gaze to the other elf that stood shaking in a corner, head held high despite how obviously scared she was.

"You," his eyes narrowed.

Fenris stormed down the stairs, stalking past me and Aveline, past Hawke as he helped Anders to his feet and straight up to Varianna. Seething, he flung her body into the wall, a face contorted with hate mere centimeters from her face.

"You," he spat, the hate dripping from that single word.

Raising one glowing hand, Fenris moved to tear his sister's heart from her chest.

"No," Aveline yanked us forward.

A full smacking sound as flesh hit flesh. Hawke's hand gripping Fenris' raised fist. Through narrowed eyes Fenris regarded Hawke, watched the shaking in his clenched fist subside and watched Hawke's grip loosen and allow his hand fell to his side. Fenris' head dropped in defeat and I had to strangle the urge to comfort him as his eyes hung heavily to the ground. It was over. It was all over.

"No Fenris," Hawke spoke in hard tones, "I've had my sister die in front of me, I'm not about to watch as you slaughter yours."

"I see," his voice sounded dry and broken.

I just stood there. I didn't know what else to do. That and I was finding it increasingly difficult to stand.

"Hawke, Fen' Harel needs…" Aveline began.

"Leto I didn't have a choice," Varianna began green eyes, Fenris' eyes, wide with pleading, "He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a magister."

"Just get out of my sight," Fenris barked, flashing with that ghostly blue light again.

Fighting back tears Varianna shoved past him. It was an odd picture of a brother and sister, broken and strange. Completely different from me and Carver or from what James and I had been. And it seemed so…sad that it should be this way, that when he finally found her this was what they were met with.

"You have no idea what we went through. What I've had to do since mother died. This was my only chance. You said you didn't ask for this but that's not true. You wanted it. You competed for it. When you won you used the boon to have mother and I freed."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Freedom was no boon. I look at you now and I think you received the better end of the bargain."

Then she left. After everything Fenris had went through, he let the last link to his past walk away without a word. I wanted to say something, call her back or something; anything but this empty, dissatisfying ending. But I couldn't; with Fenris looking so… broken it seemed wrong.

"Hey!" a man with a face like leather came storming in, one bony finger raised in Hawke's face with his teeth almost jutting out in anger, "You! You're going to bloody well pay for the damage you've done to my Tavern!"

With a sigh Hawke loosened his coin purse.

A/N:

I hoped you prefer this version so far. I feel like I'm back on track ^_^ I must have wandered off a bit before :\

THANK YOU FOR READING =3


	31. Anders actually helped me

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Anders actually helped me?

"Ow, ow, ow," I flinched.

"Stop squirming then," Fenris reprimanded, eyebrows knitted with concentration as he inspected the wound.

"I could stop squirming if you'd stop prodding me," I frowned.

Fenris sighed as he coated the angry red skin in yet another layer of the cooling balm. The assassin had poisoned the blade. I'd probably have to ask Hawke and Anders to remove the toxins later but Fenris seemed bent on treating the wound himself. He probably felt as if it were compensation for causing the wound in the first place. He hadn't of course and there was no need. But it was difficult to talk Fenris down from something he felt he had to do.

"There," he said placing the bowls on the bedside table and appreciating his handiwork.

"Oh Fenris, my hero," I batted my lashes at him.

He smirked but seemed uneasy.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I asked. I slipped my shirt back on, carefully easing the material where it touched my newly treated injury.

He sighed, fidgeting, opening and closing his mouth uneasily before finally speaking his mind.

"I thought discovering my past would give me a sense of belonging but I was wrong. Magic has tainted that too. There's nothing for me to reclaim. I am alone."

"Fenris..." he turned abruptly with his eyebrows knitted together as if I were the one with the answer all along but refused to give it him, "You aren't alone."

It hurt I must admit for him to think that. Not just me, there are others who care; genuinely care for him and for them to overlooked it seemed wrong. But then after everything how could anyone expect him to feel any other way; he'd lost everything then he'd tried to salvage what he could and found it all to be false.

And what did you say after he'd experienced something like that. Fenris was desperate for the answers I couldn't give him. What did I know? What knowledge had I gained? The only thing I knew was that after everything I still knew barely anything. But while I knew little of how love worked and why; I knew how it felt.

"Please, you're not alone."

"Okay, okay," the thin wiry smile crept back and it wasn't a ghost, it was real, "you can stop repeating yourself now."

"Right Captain," I saluted.

"Lie down you idiot, you'll open your wound up again," he barked, pushing me back down despite my struggles and protests and gently closed the door behind him.

"Where's Fen' Harel?"Hawke asked peering about the ruins that Fenris called home with interest.

"She's sleeping in there," Fenris jerked a finger towards a closed door.

There was a thump as something heavy hit the old wood.

"You asshole! I'm fine, I've told you five times but you keep putting me to bed!"

"She's sleeping soundly," the green eyed elf nodded and throwing himself into his favored chair with an amused expression.

Hawke seemed slightly fazed but he had a reason for the visit and he intended to see it to the end.

"Fenris I only came to ask you if you're okay after… this morning."

Fenris stiffened in his seat, the old shield slipping into place as the rigid wall separated him from Hawke and the entire world if need be.

"Yes I'm…fine Hawke."

"Ah good."

An uneasy tension settled between them as if the air in the room had been snapped taunt. But it wasn't with a lack of conversation it was with what was being left unsaid.

Hawke coughed gruffly, "well I'd better go I promised Isabella that I'd help her with something."

"Hawke..."

Hawke paused, the eyes so like his name sakes gently turning back to face Fenris.

"…nothing, it doesn't matter. Thank you for the concern."

I did finally fall asleep despite my best efforts. I must have been exhausted because Fenris had managed to redress my wounds and slip out without even waking me. I wondered where he'd gone but being able to come and go as we pleased, our independence, was important to us both.

Yawning, I stretched but coiled as a fiery sensation shot through my veins. Damn. I'd need to get that sorted or I wouldn't be any use to anyone. That meant a visit to the clinic as Hawke was hardly anywhere else during the day. He toiled over the sick with the same determination as Anders only pausing when some mage showed up begging for protection. That also meant talking to Anders.

Groan.

Unexpectedly it wasn't daylight that flooded in through the door but instead a dying sunset. I'd slept all day. I hardly ever slept all day. Then again, I hadn't exactly been feeling at my best recently.

"Hello? Hawke are you in?"

The other occupants of the clinic looked up at me with trepidation; the worry for themselves or other patients was evident in the strained skin around their eyes and mouths. They made a sorry sight. Their clothes torn with over use and stained with mud, their expressions all were carrying that same desolate expression as if they all belonged to the same miserable family. No wonder Anders wanted to help these people, it didn't seem as though anyone else was willing to. He couldn't be that terrible if Hawke liked him and he was willing to offer aid. Misguided maybe but he couldn't be capable of terrible things.

"Hawke's not here so you may as well piss off back into the hole you crawled out of."

Spoke too soon.

"It'd have to be a pretty big hole," I smirked, "and I'd get all my clothes dirty."

Anders sighed as if he were dealing with a particularly taxing person which he probably was.

"What is it you want…?"

Anders line of speech was cut off abruptly as my knees gave way and I sank shakily to the floor. Oh, my head felt light and out of touch. In fact my entire body felt the same way like my skin had become a coat that was far too big. And I felt so weak, so unsteady with the burning in my veins being the only thing that centered me.

"Ah," I sucked in air through my teeth using the nearby bed to hold my body upright.

"Fen' Harel," Anders moved forward, pulling my body away from the bed and towards him. The only thought I seemed to process was that he smelt strange because he smelt like Hawke. Then I blacked out.

"Finally you're awake," I wasn't sure if he was happy or angry about it. Urghh my head. I think I'm going to. Vomit came rushing up my throat and burned on the way out.

"Maker," Anders managed before skidding aside.

"Sorry about that," I wiped an arm roughly across my mouth in a hope it might clean away the foul sensation as well.

"What happened anyway?" I raised sore eyes around the now almost empty clinic; only a few stranglers waiting to thank Anders in the background.

"Well you blacked out, scared off half of the other patients here in the process, and I was forced to treat you. It seems you had some powerful poisons in your veins, they could have killed you," Anders said in a bored tone pushing golden blonde hair back as he tidied away pestles and potions.

"Wait, _you_ treated _me_?"

"Yes I am a healer or does the thought of me going anywhere near you repulse you that much?"

I couldn't help laughing to myself, "no I'm just waiting to explode any moment now."

"What? You don't think I'm capable of healing a poisoning?" he said it so indifferently but could hardly manage to conceal the hate that was pulsing underneath it.

"No, you do not understand me at all. I just meant that I'm surprised you were willing to heal me."

Anders paused as if he'd been tilted off balance for a moment.

"Yeah well…I did it for Hawke not for you. You're his sister so he cares about you and after everything he's been through I wasn't ready to let you fester away on my floor."

He did care about Hawke. That much was obvious from even the notion of helping me passing through his head. His life would be much easier if I were to just die. And Hawke, how much easier would it be for him if he weren't defending Anders with almost everything at stake.

"That and a rotting corpse is probably likely to scare everyone else off. Unless you used me as a welcome matt but then again dead bodies aren't very welcoming. Unless of course you're into that kind of thing but I suppose they aren't the kind of customers you'd want to attract," I mused.

Anders raised an eyebrow.

"Well," I pulled myself to my feet managing to hide the lingering faintness, "I'd better be off in case I might be at risk of any bonding."

"You don't need to worry about that," Anders voice was stern.

"Hey Anders, thank you," I smiled to him. That was the first time I'd actually smiled at Anders without it being accompanied by some form of threat.

"Er, you're welcome I guess."

Anders lingered near the doorway even after she left. The absent minded walk of the blue eyed elf was easily recognizable as she shifted between the crowds of shambling beggars. Should he have told her? What would she have done with the information? He felt as a healer that he had some obligation to call her back and sit her down before talking it through with her. But as a human being he couldn't. He just didn't know what she'd do? And she had the capacity to be dangerous.

A/N:

Okay there's another chapter. I hope you're liking it so far any feedback would be brilliant and thank you to anyone who's reviewed already :]

THANK YOU…again


	32. The Arguement

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

The argument.

"No, not that one, the one next to it," Anders directed in a serious tone as he treated the nine year olds burns.

"Yes sorry, I gave you the wrong potion again," I apologized as I plucked another bottle green vial from the hand made casket.

"You keep giving me the cure for syphilis. Are you suggesting something?" Anders asked with a wiry grin.

"Nothing of the sort my friend, nothing of the sort," I smirked "Unless of course…there's anything you'd like to confess."

He cast me a side way look as he opened out his arms, flicking his sleeves back, as he did so and began to emit a soothing blue light from his hands. I watched for a moment before sliding off to prepare bandages. I'd been helping Anders and Hawke in the clinic for the last two weeks, even though I refused to offer aid to the mages because they could bloody well heal themselves rather than waste time we could be using to heal someone else. It started as a way to thank Anders for healing me but I seemed to have found myself caught up in it now. It was a way to spend time with Hawke again something that I only now realized that I'd more than I acknowledged. And the people who visited the clinic seemed fond enough of me…especially the children. It was strange I'd always disliked children in general except the children that ran wild in Dark town; but I suppose it's because these children were different from the spoilt, brat like kids that used to roam the palace. These children were sharp; they sprinted from place to place with a light humor and a deadly seriousness about themselves. They could be annoying but strangely they seemed to like me probably because I wound up Hawke and Anders as much as if not more than them.

"You ready?" I asked the boy who nodded with his eyes closed as I wrapped his now healed arm in the bandages that had been dipped in balm.

Anders waved the boy and his parents off while I tidied his clinic; by tidied I mean shoving everything into a pile and sticking a blanket over the top.

"You ready to go," Anders called over his shoulder, holding the door open.

"Yeah I'm coming."

"Anders! Fen' Harel!" Hawke's grin was stretched a mile wide across his face, "Something wonderful has happened."

"You're pregnant that's fantastic Hawke!" I beamed at him.

"Maker, that's not Fen' Harel is it? It sounds like some weird, stupid thing she'd say," came a voice from inside the hallway.

Was that…

"Carver!" I practically screamed in his face, pushing past Hawke and pulling him into a hug.

"Andraste's tits," he managed to choke before he was almost suffocated by an over excited half elf.

"Why are you...? I mean when did you…? I mean how have you been? It's so good to see you," I was grinning like a maniac.

"One question at time," he said attempting to sound tired but you could tell that he was as happy to be here as I was to see him.

"He was kidnapped," Hawke said already pouring tea for everyone.

"Kidnapped?"

I eased the door closed behind me with a concentrated effort into being as silent as possible. I'd stayed at the Hawke Estate for hours, talking with Carver. I'd missed him so much; he really was a brother to me. With bare feet I crept upstairs, into the main room and gently moved the army of empty bottles away from the fire. I couldn't work out where he kept getting all the wine from, I'd have to ask him when I…

"Fen' Harel I was wondering when you'd get back."

"Ah! Don't do that I almost shit myself."

"Charming," he replied through a half grin.

Fenris was propped up against the wall in the corner, face and body almost completely engulfed in shadow with the odd areas still visible where the light from the fire beat the dark back. He was so beautiful. I'd have thought that I would have got used to it and cease to notice but the soft lines of his face still caught me just as hard as they did before; each line sweeping seductively into one another from cheekbones to strong elven nose to full lips. And those eyes, the green catching light as it always did near the fire like flame leaping from tree to tree and burning with something fierce yet patient. Maker he was tempting. I found myself unconsciously licking my lips.

"What are you doing sitting down here in the dark by yourself," I asked crawling up near him as he leaned his head against the wall watching me with interest.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing much."

"Sounds about right."

"Oh is that right?" he feigned insult as I laughed to myself but before he could finish off I had already wound an arm around his head pulling him closer and down. I parted my lips with a satisfying surrender, just trembling near his lips for a moment as the delicious smell of him flooded my brain.

It was Fenris who closed the space between us, touching the soft skin of our lips together in an almost chaste kiss before the swelling motion carried us into another bittersweet kiss that bruised and soothed at the same time. The calloused skin of his hands skim over the skin of my back, which trembles and shudders under his touch, lifting and bunching the material of my shirt up in his fist as I deepen the kiss, hands tangled in his fine silvery hair. He releases a gasp as I gently nip and suck at the skin of his neck, cleaning the wounds and tracing his markings with my tongue as my fingers find the familiar buckles and threads of his trousers. I have to smile as he murmurs an aroused growl from deep within his throat as my hand slips into his pants and strokes, playing with him mercilessly.

"Fen' Harel," he half moans and half growls; bunches my hair and shirt in his fists as I work my way down his naked chest planting long kisses on each scar and mark as I pull Fenris as close to me as I possibly could, our bodies already beginning to wind and wrap around the others in beautiful mess of caresses and hot, panted breaths.

We lie there afterwards. In almost complete silence, with only the odd voice calling out in the night outside. These silences are common as I usually fill the noise with chatter, pausing no and then for his opinion, to laugh unashamedly or for a complex demonstration that took my full attention. While Fenris, watched and listened as he always did, content to allow me the role of entertainer interjecting only when he posed a question or adding his dry sarcastic humor to my… strange one. But silence was common when one or the other bored of conversation or amusement; it gave us the pause to think. There didn't seem to be anything that needs to be said just a familiar easiness between us; a sense that he knows me and I know him. Time seems to pull itself into a stop as if me and Fenris were enclosed in a bubble separate from the rest and shielded from the rain that I can hear pounding on the dark streets outside. I watch as a strip of pale moonlight crosses the floor from the window and rests on our near naked bodies. I can hear Fenris breathing; feel his chest beat underneath my ear as it lulls a comforting lullaby. For one of those rare moments I think I couldn't be more content, so completely and utterly at peace with the world.

"Fen' Harel are you awake?"

"No I passed away in my sleep."

There's a dry, barking chuckle before he regains his line of questioning, "Where were you this afternoon?"

"At the clinic, why?"

"I told you to stay away from Isabella."

I laughed.

"I've got no crafty sailor diseases don't you worry your pretty little head. No I went to help out."

"But Hawke's been with me and Varric all day."

"Anders was working."

There was a silence.

"Anders?"

"Yes Anders unless it was someone in a really good Anders mask but I doubt they exist considering all Anders gets is abuse and sick people throwing up near him."

"And he was fine with having you help him, I find that hard to believe," he scoffed. I hated the way he said it like he was accusing me of something.

"What exactly are you suggesting Fenris?" I struggled with my temper as I stood scrambling around for clothes in the dark.

"I'm just saying that you're spending an awful lot of time with that abomination over the last two weeks, almost every day…" he replied through his teeth as he too snatched up clothes.

"Maybe you should get me tagged then there'd be no need to worry."

"…The fact that you two are like best friends all of a sudden is odd too," he continued.

"He's Hawke's partner whether I like it or not. Hawke's like a brother to me and we've been distant all of a sudden. I hate that. I'm trying to build bridges. I can't be bitter and resentful all the time like _you_ Fenris."

"Oh so this is about Hawke. Strange how you two seem to be spending your time together when me and Hawke aren't around," he mumbled under his breath but I heard every word.

"What did you say Fenris?"

"I said that it's strange that you're with him when neither Hawke nor me are there!"  
>"So I'm fucking him now am I?"<p>

Fenris didn't answer just stood there, glaring at me like I'd been poisoning his food. He'd never looked at me like that before. Maker, it stung. How dare he? What had I done to deserve this, to be looked at like some street whore? What had I actually done? Fuck all. And it hurt. It really hurt.

"You know what Fenris. Fuck you! You mopey, dramatic little arsswipe! You can fucking rot away here, hating life for all I care! Danarius is dead move on, stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, you miserable waste of space!"

"No fuck you! You're a mean bitch Fen' Harel do you know that! You're more fucked up than you know! You just enjoy playing games with my head because it's just a joke to you isn't it? It's just one big fucking joke! You don't give a shit! You're more fucking trouble than you're worth!"

I grabbed my jacket from the chair almost pulling the chair over. I had to go. I had to get out of there before I exploded. Part of me wanted to beat him to death and part of me, and I know it's pathetic, wanted to burst into tears. We'd fought plenty of times but this felt different, it felt cruel. We'd usually walk of for air and be fine when we returned all past crimes forgotten. But this time it really _really_ hurt. We were hurting one another and that hurt as much as the insults.

"Yeah, run off," he called after me.

My fingers dug into the wood of the door but despite the pulsing anger I had to choke back tears.

"You told me once that all you wanted was to be happy. All I've tried to do was make you _happy_. But it's not enough is it? I'm not enough."

….

"Fen' Harel?"

Hawke was shocked to see her at the door. Her eyes were wide and watery as the wavered on the brink of tears and she was shaking with either cold or something else. He'd never seen her like this except for his mother's funeral. She looked shaken.

"Who is it Hawke?" came Anders voice from the heat and the warmth of the Hawke estate.

"Thank the Maker you're here. Anders and Garrett refuse to have any fun; I think I might be in danger of being bored to death," Carver groaned. He, Merrill and Anders didn't look up but continued to soak in the warmth of the fire, hands occasionally reaching for glasses or the few plates of food. The entire atmosphere radiating a loving, laid back feeling.

"We're not being boring just sensibl…" Anders trailed off as they finally caught a look at Fen' Harel's face despite her efforts.

Carver, surprising even himself, simply stood and pulled her into a bear hug.

"I don't think I'll be Chuckles tonight," she mumbled against his chest.

"That's okay I never liked clowns," he said.

She laughed, fiercely dabbing at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"Is that… is that Fereldan Cake?" she asked with a weak smile.

…

Ser Cullen paused outside the window. Breathing deeply, he curled his fingers around the handle of the sword as he steadied himself for the task ahead of him; a stealthy quick in and out. Grab the elf, leave the note and go. Now was the time, Meredith was growing increasingly impatient. If he wasn't careful it'd be his head on the chopping block along with the mages.

The elf wasn't at her lover's tonight, she'd returned to the Hawke Estate after a fight. The worst, his spies reported, yet. It had proved ideal. With a change of tactics, Cullen had been able to manipulate the situation to his advantage. This way neither Hawker nor his companions would be tearing into the Gallows in search of her. And Meredith got her prize. An ideal conclusion as he saw it, everyone won. Except for the girl of course. Cullen struggled to swallow down another sickening wave of guilt as he remembered exactly what he was doing in Andraste's name. What Meredith had organized was twisted, sadistic and insane even, an affront to the cause she claimed.

But of course, she reasoned, one ad to suffer for the good of thousands. With the half elf at their head, thousands of Templars could return to their families and homes at the end of the day rather than torn apart by abominations or drained slowly by blood mages. Cullen strengthened his resolve by repeating Knight Commander Meredith's words in his head like a mantra, "I'm doing the right thing. I'm doing the right thing. I'm doing the right thing?"

"On your order Ser," the Templar next to him whispered.

"We move on the count of three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

The Templars began to creep into the Hawke Estate as everyone slept.

A/N:

At last Meredith strikes. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I loved having Carver back ^_^ I think I'd missed him too. I think I'll keep him in until the end now I don't really want to get rid of him now he's back.

THANKS FOR READING AND REVIEWING =3 =3


	33. Where is she?

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Where is she?

"Is Fen' Harel here?"

Carver stood slightly dumbfounded. Raising a hand, he squinted in the fresh glare of the early morning sun.

"Fenris?"  
>I didn't have time for this.<p>

"Is Fen' Harel here?" I repeated impatiently then watched as Carver's face morphed from initial confusion to a coldness I hadn't seen from Hawke's brother until that moment.

"Why should I tell you?" he scowled at me as if I was something distasteful. I was used to the hostility, that didn't faze me, but him becoming a barricade between me and Fen' Harel did. Despite my growing concern for her that gnawed at my guts like termites on rotting wood, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation as I imagined her painting me as a monster to Hawke and his brother. But that wasn't Fen' Harel surely. I couldn't picture her running to them like some upset school girl and whining about me.

"So she told you about our fight?" I met his accusing glare with ease. He wasn't going to intimidate me into leaving until I knew she was safe at least.

Our fight. It seemed an ideal way to describe it, the others beforehand had been arguments; nothing but stupid, petty quarrels. But never had we fought each other so bitterly, put so much effort into hurting one another. The words said (from both parties) cut like a knife. And after all I was left feeling… numb. When I woke this morning to find myself alone, knowing that together we had drove her from it, I'd felt so empty. The same emptiness had clung to me like a ghost all morning refusing me any other emotion but this insufferable anxiety and guilt. I love her. I was resolute in the emotion that I'd tried so hard to ignore and push as far away from me as possible. It seemed so fucking cruel that I should only acknowledge it now that she'd gone. Gone. Surely she wasn't.

"She didn't _need _to say anything. What did you do to her, you evil little shit!" Carver jabbed a finger towards my face.

Then regaining some composure, he gestured me inside with an aggressive shake of his head. I complied only because there was a large possibility that she too was resting inside the Hawke Estate.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about this for awhile Fenris. I could tell from the beginning that something like this would happen, as soon as you started to sneak looks at one another, and I would have bloody well warned you off before you caused any damage if it hadn't had been for the pissing Deep Roads…" Carver began but I interrupted his rant before he could get into it with the pent up viciousness.

"I don't have time for this. Is Fen' Harel here?"

"Don't fake any fucking concern for her now! I'm going to bloody well finish shouting at you before I answer any questions!"

I pushed him out the way, storming towards Fen' Harel's room.

"Fenris?" Merrill almost jumped ten feet when I yanked the door open.

"Where's Fen' Harel?"

The blood mage blanked, looking past me for support. I didn't bother to question her presence in Fen' Harel's room, I didn't give a shit right now, I needed to find Fen' Harel.

"Fenris? What are you doing here; it's five in the morning?" Hawke's voice had soothing quality like balm, I could already feel my shoulders dropping slightly but I wasn't finished here.

"I don't have time! Where's Fen' Harel?" my frustration was coiling rapidly into a seething rage. Fuck's sakes! Couldn't anybody answer a simple question?

"I think you should sit and calm down first," Hawke's hands were already pulling me off course and gently guiding me towards a chair.

"Are you deaf? I don't have time!" I growled, standing instantly and slapping his hands away.

"Garrett said sit down, you miserable dickhead," Carver warned.

"Don't make me laugh, you're about as threatening as a choirboy," I laughed openly in his face.

"That's it!" Carver threatened.

"I'm wetting myself," I replied in a dry tone that only made his face turn a shade redder.

"Just everyone calm down," Hawke barely raised his voice but everyone instantly fell silent as if the command were iron.

"Hawke? What's happening?"

"You!" I almost launched myself at the blonde mage as he stood bewildered at the top of the stairs, "This is all you're fault!"

I cursed his name in every language, with every hateful word I knew as I tried to wrap my hands around his throat and throttle the bastard to death. He had done this, soured me with distrust and jealousy. Every joke he ever made to her, every time he stood too near to her or accidently brushed her skin had bred this unbearable jealousy. A vile envy that had festered away, maturing in my gut and poisoning my blood like a disease until every time she even said his name or smiled in his company I could feel it eating away at me with doubt and suspicion, and turning my blood into liquid fire. Him! He'd shaped this abomination that I was as much a slave to as I was to her, and just as addictive. Maker I fucking loved her. And Maker I fucking hated him. The thought of them… together. His lips touching the lips I'd just kissed, her lips, _my _lips. I couldn't. I just couldn't. It hurt. It burned.

"Get off him!" Hawke wrenched me from Anders, flinging me to the floor as he moved to protect a choking Anders.

"Sit down Fenris before I choke you myself!" Hawke was so close to losing it there was almost an invisible suffocating tightness in the air.

I moved to the chair, my fists clenching and unclenching, this was the only way I'd get my question answered

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You storm into my home, demanding answers from everyone here and try to kill _my lover_! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Hawke's shoulder's shook with a rage he was obviously fighting.

"Where's Fen' Harel?" I asked.

"Have you ever thought that maybe no-one wants to tell you because she's better off without you knowing?" Merrill said venomously.

"Bullshit where is she?"

I was met by four pairs of hard eyes.

"Hawke," my voice wavered, "I just need to know. Is she okay? Please tell me that at least."

Hawke's stance softened entirely, he could tell just by looking at me that I was hurting. That night, last night hadn't just been another stupid argument. He faltered.

"Please?" I pleaded.

"You didn't see her last night Fenris. She looked so… broken," Hawke's words and the pained expression on his face was unbearable. Broken. I'd broken her. I remembered what she'd said before she left.

"I just wanted to make you happy. But it wasn't enough. I'm not enough."

What had I done? I'd ruined everything.

"I knew you'd do this to her. I was wrong about her; she could change but you…"

"Don't you talk about her!" I bellowed at Anders, "Don't you ever talk about her!"  
>There was a stinging sensation as Anders' fist crashed into my mouth.<p>

"I take all this shit from you, you hateful little worm! For Hawke! He's the only person here who doesn't want to kick your sorry little head in. Fen' Harel was a sister to Carver, a good friend to Merrill _despite_ her being a mage and on better terms with me the last two weeks that I'd ever be on with you, and we all had to watch her put on a brave face last night before eventually crying herself to sleep because of you. So I suggest you shut the fuck up and listen to Hawke!"

With that Anders snatched up his coat and stormed out, slamming the door behind him and plunging the room into a heavy silence. I didn't seem capable of reacting, my head dropping against my chest and my shoulders hunched in defeat.

"Fenris?" Hawke asked with real concern, he moved towards me but paused and instead stood frozen with his hand still reaching out towards my slumped shoulders.

I didn't realize my cheeks were wet until he said it. I didn't realize it was tears until I watched them drip onto my lap.

"You know they always tell you that it's fine. There's plenty of fish in the sea. They tell you that love doesn't hurt. That you should always be ready for it because it's wonderful," my voice sounded bitter and broken to even my ears, "but it isn't. If it's so wonderful then why does it hurt so much?"

Hawke didn't have an answer.

"It was powerful enough to bring me back from the dead," I continued, "and powerful enough to murder me just as easily."

'Fenris," Hawke's hand rested on my shoulder as he kneeled so his face level with mine as I raised my head, pity and pain mingling on his features. I didn't have the strength to push him away.

"I've lost her, haven't I Hawke? She's gone forever?"

He couldn't answer me for a moment, his eyes beginning to swim with his own tears for my sake or Fen' Harel's or both of ours I never knew.

"She...," he choked before righting himself with a throaty, apologetic cough, "she left a note. She's gone. She didn't say where or why just that she had to and begging us not to look for her. She doesn't want to be found."

Hawke stood. I just continued to watch the floor as my tears stained the tile.

"And I for one intend to respect her wishes," Hawke said gruffly before leaving. Carver and Merrill followed him out leaving me alone to lament.

...

"Knight Commander, are you sure this is the right course of action?"

Cullen's worries were ignored once again as Meredith surveyed the scene before her with an avid, morbid interest. The mages were at work; they scurried and trembled under her shadow as they worked industriously around the stone sacrificial table like a hive of bees. They noted the Knight Commander's golden hair, her perfect face, the almost serene blueness of her eyes as nothing but angelic, something holy and otherworldly that was far from their grasping hands. But there was something wrong with this archangel. There lacked a mercy to her eyes replaced by a hard, unforgiving coldness that was both captivating and intensely terrifying.

"Knight Commander?"

"Questioning me again Cullen?" she turned the full, sharpness of those eyes on her second.

"No not you but this method of...of...butchery."

"The one must suffer for the many."

"I know but this seems wrong. Sick even."

His statement was only emphasized as the elven girl gave another insufferable, agonizing scream. He cringed as the scream curdled his blood. Surely you couldn't live through this much pain and surive. No more. Please no more.

Meredith strode forward, almost dreamily, running a finger along the sacrificial table lovingly as if it held a cure to every misery rather than the tortured body of an elf as she pulled air through a blood filled mouth with each ragged breath.

"This came to me in a dream you know Cullen. I believe Andraste sent it to me herself, as a message to point out the way. 'Why not use our enemies' weapon against us?' I listened to her, Cullen, I listened carefully."

Meredith's speech was interrupted once again as the woman writhed, choking another scream from her splintered lungs, the insults, and the pleads for death all gone leaving only this desperate screaming drowning in raw, hopeless pain. This wasn't a murder, it was slaughter.

"If there's one thing those barbarian Quarni knew it was how to control mages. But it isn't the mage that must be controlled, there is no longer any illusion of hope for them now, they are too twisted, their eyes closed to the Maker and his bride, no it is the soldier who must deal with the demons that stalk our streets. A human solider is far too easily cast from his path."

Meredith's fingers grasped the mask she had had carved especially for this, one hand tentatively tracing each grove and cut with a delicate tenderness as the sea of mages parted for her, their job done.

"No. She will become more than human. She will be my weapon; The Maker's weapon against the very forces of evil that wrap themselves in a human disguise."

With gentle fingers Meredith cleaned Fen' Harel's unconscious face, washing the sweat and blood away with a benign smile as if it were her own daughter. She tenderly swept aside her hair from her face before planting a soft kiss like an assurance of faith on each pale cheek.

Then with the same gentle, motherly impression Meredith snapped Fen' Harel's face into the mask closing her off from sunlight, that had just managed to stroke the elf's face and set Meredith's hair alight like a halo around her saintly face, and commending her to a life in the darkness.

Cullen almost vomited in disgust as the face of Andraste that had carved perfectly to the exact detail of the one from the Chantry was clasped onto Fen' Harel's face. The blood soaked ends of the elf's black hair catching and smearing the golden material, as a weak breath wheezed in and out of Andraste's partially open mouth. Meredith continued to pour over her newest creation with a captivated concentration.

"So she will be completely at my control when she awakes?" Meredith asked, still running trembling fingers over the mask's cheeks and upraised eyes.

"Yes, whoever holds the rod controls her."

"And it shouldn't affect her ability unlike the Mages that are cut from the fade?"

"No, not at all... but it would be safe to allow her to rest before you test the rod, the... operation is quite traumatic to the body."

"Magnificent. She's magnificent."

"Are we... are we to be freed now?"

"Absolutely _magnificent_."

"Knight Commander?"

"Hrmm? Ah yes, you're freedom. Cullen, take these mages to the Gallows and have them executed."

"As you wish Knight Commander," Ser Cullen bowed before helping his fellow Templars to roughly push the mages from the room.

"Magnificent," Meredith whispered, "perfectly magnificent."

A/N:

This has to be one of the most depressing chapters yet :( Meredith finally got her revenge and there's no hope of help from Fenris and Hawke. Plus it was hard writing Fenris' part (if you could comment on that please do because it'd be a great because I'm worried about it being right) but I enjoyed letting Anders getting pissy (deservedly so) and making Carver go all protective older brother. But I feel a bit sorry for everyone ganging up on Fenris. To be honest I have greater sympathies for Fen' Harel right now. Meredith's every kind of crazy :/

THANKS FOR READING :D


	34. Going underground

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Going Underground.

Three months later:

Tiberius ran a weathered hand over a weathered face. His joints groaned and creaked like old wood, his skin hung from his frail bird like bones and his eyes had sunk into the face that now seemed barely attached to his skull. It was suffice to say that Tiberius was not feeling himself. The worry and constant desperate fear that had hounded him for every second of every minute had subsided slightly and in this moment of calm he was able to asses what he'd lost.

Almost everything.

Not that he'd had much to begin with. The circle had taken his freedom, his family, then his friends, his hope even and they'd tried to take his life but Anders and Serah Hawke had managed to offer sanctuary just when he was on the brink of ending it himself. At least he had his life. At least there was that.

Tiberius chuckled to himself, here he was bitching and moaning about how hard he'd had it and he was one of the lucky ones because he'd came out alive. Maybe there'd be far more in the years to come with Hawke and his lovers combined efforts.

Tiberius lifted his head and surveyed the underground refuge, yet another hidden cavern in the great nest of Dark town. Despite the sunken forms and malnourished faces, almost black with dirt most of the time, there was an unexpected air of hope that clung to the dank hovel. They could make it; no, were going to make it with Hawke's and Ander's help. It felt as though the world hovered on the cusp of a new revelation. Mages were going to be free to act without the Circle's shackles clamped to their wrists.

And it was more evident here than anywhere else, a place where people who should be dead collected around a fire and traded life stories. And there was not much Meredith could do of course; there were rumours of giant Templar contraptions, a super Templar, new torture methods if they managed to catch you and of course (my favourite) human blood hounds that could smell a mage from 50 miles away. But the reality was that Serah Hawke held as much, if not more, power through hope and displays of his pure courageous strength than Meredith herself through fear.

There must be near thirty of them, some in a better condition than others but nearly all were young like Tiberius. Most were passionate about the Mages Plight. They would listen raptly to Hawke or Anders when they journeyed down here with supplies as if they were repeating words that had fell from the mouth of the Maker himself. Others were just tired; too tired to concern themselves with rebellion at the moment. Tiberius had to admit he joined that select few. He swore that he'd help later but first he needed to lick his wounds clean and pick himself up again.

"Wait for a second," Tiberius inclined his head in the direction of the tunnel that was used as an entrance and to the four mages that guarded it.

"Stand still," they instructed as the figure still crouched huddled in the hole.

There was a pulse from the four mages. Tiberius remembered it as an uncomfortable probing sensation as if invisible fingers were moving under his skin. The guards had to do it of course. The pulse acted as a scan; it detected magical ability and enabled to insure that the trespasser was a mage seeking a safe haven rather than a Templar spy.

The guards seemed satisfied and stood aside to allow the new comer into the mass of clustered beds, campfires and boxes. She thanked them with a dead eyed smile that didn't seem to reach her cheeks. Tiberius remembered that he'd reacted with relieved thanks but maybe this girl was too exhausted to even manage that and instead had to manage with a feigned smile before collapsing into a jumble of fifthly blankets. Tiberius couldn't help but move tentatively towards her. He had been greeted warmly when he arrived, why should she not receive the same?

"Hello," Tiberius said as he sat down next to her.

She was an elf or maybe a half breed Tiberius wasn't entirely sure, a cloak concealed most of her body except for a pale face that protruded from the collar. Something heavy clinked against metal when she moved. Tiberius glanced nervously but only caught a glimpse of jagged black hair and plump lips before his eyes flicked away again.

"Hello," she replied but the voice was odd. It was lifeless.

"I'm Tiberius," he smiled, eyes flicking up again to catch only a flash of two startling blue eyes, "it's nice to meet you."

"It is?" she seemed confused. Tiberius laughed nervously, unsure as to whether he'd insulted her or not. But no. When he raised his gaze her eyes stared back at him with genuine, innocent confusion. Tiberius realized that the elven woman wasn't so much classically beautiful but _tremendously_...cute instead. Yet there was something wrong with the way she looked. Not looked maybe but acted or the look in her eyes. There was something empty and dead there. In spite of this Tiberius still reacted with friendliness, even though there was something in his gut that urged him to acknowledge the _wrongness _of her, Tiberius looked at her and believed that she could not be capable of anything horrible.

"It is," Tiberius smiled.

"Why? I'd have thought people like you wouldn't want me here."

"People like us? You mean humans. No, in the circle elves and humans don't even register, we're all just mages."

The elven woman maintained that lost expression for a moment before her body seemed to jolt and tighten for a fraction of a second. She stood.

"Hey are you okay?" Tiberius asked.

A chilled wind coiled through the hole, it extinguished the campfires and froze the bodies squatted around them in one robust sweep. Tiberius shivered and pulled his arms to himself.

"Get the fires lit again," one the guards instructed, these failures were regular when so close to the open sea.

Tiberius sparked his fingers and concentrated on feeding the flame until a steady fire sat in one of his palms. He looked up to make sure the new comer wasn't panicked but she was gone. It was at that moment that the world he knew went to hell.

There was gargled cry between four heavy thuds before a fragile silence strained the air. Tiberius held his breath, the fear he had just managed to shake clenched his heart and began to crush. Two more heavy thumps before the room exploded in frenzied movement. Mages cast desperately in any direction. Tiberius caught glimpses of the others from the light of the failing bodies that were already aflame. It was horror, sheer horror. Faces contorted in blind fear. Between it all a figure slinked in and out, chain rattled and swung. They could all feel it, like death itself were breathing down the back of their necks but they could never catch it.

It was done in less than an hour. A room of thirty people had been massacred to one solitary trembling mage and the figure that stood at the centre of the room. Tiberius couldn't even speak. He could only stare.

The elven woman moved forward slowly. She knelt down towards Tiberius, who could only whisper pleas numbly; she reached a hand and gently held it to his neck.

Tiberius gasped as what felt like a solid shard of ice began to wedge and scrap through his veins at an excruciatingly slow pace. He tried to scream but he was drowning in the blood that rose in his throat and solidified. Tiberius was suffocated as a ton of his own blood, stained black, bore down on him. The woman had already removed her hand and watched with a detached interest as Tiberius slumped to the floor, his veins throbbing with ink like blood. She then stood and got to work; she dragged the bodies, piled them together and finally set them on fire. Then she left.

Fen' Harel's POV:

I think I was sleeping. That or I was dead. The later was more likely as the last thing I could remember was pain. Too much pain.

I hoped I wasn't dead; I wasn't finished with life yet. But I didn't seem to want to move either. Thoughts of action would swim in and out of my head in an airy wisp that I could barely register never mind snare. I was curled sleeping in a vast black sea. My body rocked occasionally with gentle waves that swept me to nowhere in particular.

In the sea, figures of my memory ghosted past. I watched as two elven children ran laughing past my driftwood body before melting and scattering into the water. It took me a moment longer to recognize them as me and my brother. I watched my mother dress a child version of me and pin back her hair with concentration. I watched everything. I watched as I leapt from a chair onto Fenris with a blade at his throat and watched as they stared back at one another. I watched as we kissed softly, tentatively at first against a wall in an estate in Hightown. I watched it all; every blow and every kiss, every smile and every tear. It had seemed alot shorter now I was witnessing it all again.

Was I alive? I couldn't remember anymore. I hoped I was. Maybe I hadn't been alive in the first place. Maybe I'd designed these ghosts myself to keep me company. Maybe I'd been born to this. I couldn't remember. There were just these waves washing over my weightless body as I watched ghosts play out memories in a black sea.

Was I alive? Had I ever been alive? I couldn't remember anymore.

**...**

Anders swept one final cautious look through the clinic before joining Hawke who waited good-naturedly at the entrance.

"I'm sure it'll be fine for a couple of hours Anders," Hawke smiled, "you've spent days away from it before."

Anders could only smile and nod in agreement. He **had** spent days away from the Clinic but that had been before. Now he was anxious to leave it unprotected for even an hour in fear that he would return to find it raided and bordered up. There were far less Templars patrolling the streets but it seemed that the few that still hunted were managing to look in all the right places. It could just be paranoia, Anders reasoned, like Hawke had suggested. Things were going far too good, and after years of struggling and getting nowhere Anders couldn't believe that it should only now begin to work. The cause had to be obvious. It was Hawke. He and Hawke were making it work. Yet despite everything he couldn't dislodge the age old paranoia.

Hawke handed Anders two heavy crates while he cradled two of his own in his sculpted arms.

"It's best we stay together this evening; I've got a feeling that something bad is going to happen," Anders said as he shouldered the load discomfort ably.

"You worry too much Anders," Hawke laughed his concern off.

"And you worry too less," Anders retorted but he couldn't help a smile. Life for Anders was just so much easier in Hawke's company. He had to confess that he was truly and utterly smitten.

"How is everyone?" Anders asked making conversation. He had dedicated almost the entirety of his time to the Mages Plight and as a result had barely seen anyone besides Hawke unless they made the effort to wade through Dark town to visit him but even then Anders' company was distracted and impatient.

"Fine as far as I can tell; Merrill is has started to return to her normal self again after the incident with her mirror..."

"You did the right thing then. Blood magic shouldn't be tolerated in any situation."

"I'm not sure if I did. I couldn't have been far more understanding. I mean her Keeper died, I should've comforted her."

"Well, you are now."

"Yes and she seems better thank the Maker. Aveline is being caught up in everything; she's as stressed as I've ever seen her but its Aveline. She's hard as nails so I don't doubt for a moment that she's more than capable of dealing with it all. Carver's driving everyone mad at home, the staff ended up turfing him out in the day so he's spending alot of time with Merrill, Varric and Isabella. And Isabella and Varric are Isabella and Varric," Hawke finished with a smile as he remembered his unchanging rogue companions; they acted as his relief in all this.

"What about Fenris?" Anders picked up that Hawke had deliberately tried to avoid mentioning.

Hawke sighed, "He's not doing brilliantly. Isabella took him some food and other supplies last night but... it's like when he first arrived, he barely leaves the mansion or talks to anyone."

Fenris, Anders believed, was prone to an obsessive nature. First his need to destroy Danarius had driven him then his obsession with Fen' Harel (he wasn't sure whether it was love or not) had been his fixation. Now both were gone and Fenris had crawled back into that empty shell of a house, only submerging when Hawke asked for his aid but that was due to obligation rather than true willingness. It had been Fen' Harel whom had drawn him out in the evenings. Now he just seemed lost.

Anders didn't really miss either of them. Despite his and Fen' Harel's combined efforts to gain a common ground they were both still Mage haters and murderers. No it wasn't her that he missed but her overall effect on the group. Gatherings were different now like an obvious piece had been removed. Anders wondered if anyone would eventually go looking for her regardless of her wishes. He'd contemplated it himself but not for Fen' Harel's sake but because of her condition. After living in the Circle he'd dealt with these situations before but... there were far more pressing matters at hand and he was hardly eager for the reunion.

"It's a left here," Anders instructed as he secreted himself and Hawke into a tunnel that would have been near invisible to anyone else.

It was the smell of meat burning that rolled Ander's stomach with apprehension. The smoke had long since funnelled through the tunnel Hawke and Anders were crawling through before surrendering to the strong sea winds. The rancid stench curled Anders toes and striped the lining of his nose. Anders gagged and Hawke reached to pass him a ripped piece of material before pressing another over his own mouth and nose.

"Maker what is that?" Anders retched.

"It smells like something died," Hawke grumbled. Hawke and Anders eyes meet as an expression of alarm passed over their faces. They began crawl through the tunnel with a renewed energy.

"Oh Maker, Oh Maker No!" Anders sobbed as his eyes fell on the charred remains of what had been thirty people.

"Anders, just try to calm down," Hawke repeated for the fifteenth time. He placed a steaming cup of tea before a livid Anders who continued to tear up the floor with furious pacing. Hawke too was just as outraged, only someone who knew him could tell by the clenched set of his jaw, but as usual he decided to keep his emotions under lock and key for the benefit of the others.

"Don't tell me to calm down Hawke; this wasn't just the usual blood mage hunt. That _bonfire_ was slaughter!" Anders face had discoloured an angry red.

"I know Anders but if we speak about this to..."

"The Chantry? Why would they suddenly give shit now!"

"I'm trying to avoid a war Anders!" Hawke exploded, "is that such a fucking terrible thing to do?"

Hawke's body sagged into a nearby chair; the bruised bags that hung under his eyes more visible now in the dying light from the window. Anders had noticed that his lover had been losing weight along with patience and his usual understanding. He was stretched far too thin. Unlike Anders it wasn't just the Templars, and what seemed like the rest of the world sometimes, Hawke was fighting; he was also raging a war against himself. Anders could feel Hawke shaking at night sometimes with the desire to run Meredith through and yet he couldn't do it because he knew what it'd bring and he knew it was against his nature to want to be the root of it.

But what Hawke couldn't do. Anders could. He mused this as he finally lifted the mug to his lips, watching Hawke smile wearily over the rim. No, Hawke couldn't do a thing. But Meredith had gone too far this time. Thirty people, _innocent people, _massacred like diseased animals. And just the thought of all those people, living, breathing people flung together on a burning heap. How many dreams, how many families and lovers had been wiped clean?

No Meredith had gone too far this time.

There was no room for Hawke's hopeful common ground. There was only an end; to them or himself. That was the moment when Anders became resolute in blowing up the Chantry.

A/N:

Well I decided to give Anders an absolute reason to blow up the Chantry. This chapter's a bit weird because it's slightly jumbled but I hoped you enjoyed it anyway. Fen' Harel isn't even aware that she's being a physco killer which is unfortunate. Next Chapter is the beginning of the big showdown. Ah I'm excited ^_^

THANK YOU FOR READING AND REVIEWING.


	35. Anders did a whoopsie

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Anders did a whoopsie.

Bann Wulfhere rested one pale hand on the windowsill; startling blue eyes that were almost white near the pupil flinched as the merciless glare of the Kirkwall sun speared them. The Bann wondered if he would ever grow used to Kirkwall. He knew he never would. His heart truly lay in the crowded, ancient forests of Mercia.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you Bann but the Knight Commander and her guard have sent word that they will be unable to meet with you today as you requested," a human servant (Lady Evermore was careful not to hire elven servants due to the residing bitterness over her husband's last lover) bowed elegantly in the doorway.

"Send them in; oh and do you have any idea where Elizabeth and Francis are this morning?"

"I overheard her Lady in Waiting discussing an outing to the beach yesterday. I am sure your wife and son will return later this evening. Is there anything else you wish of me?"

"Er...no that will be all, except maybe refreshments."

"As you wish Bann," the servant bowed once again before leaving.

As soon as the door swung shut the Bann sighed. He raised his arms behind his head and stared at the maps and paintings of Mercia that lined the walls. It had all been for Mercia. It had always been for Mercia.

"Only for you," he whispered heavily as if the statement had been a condemnation rather than promise.

The Bann's fingers found themselves sliding across the worn oak table towards a book. A book the Bann had never actually read but was constantly kept in his company. Instinctively the Bann's fingers flicked through the dry pages of the book to its centre. Tucked into the recess of the spine was a small rounded painting, the kind you find in larger lockets. It was dog eared at the edges but otherwise kept immaculate with a careful, constant care. An elven woman smiled back at Wulfhere, tanned skin almost glowing and brunette tendrils of slightly curled hair. She was beautiful. It always struck Wulfhere how beautiful she was. Two tanned arms settled on two children, her smile unashamedly full and alive. The one child bore her grin except the boy seemed slightly embarrassed by it as if he had been caught mid-laugh. The same brunette hair, bronzed skin and intricate hazel eyes framed his delicate little face. It contrasted greatly with the pale skin of his sister, blue eyes so similar to his own alight and that brilliantly mischievous half smile on her lips.

The Bann's finger encircled each face lovingly in a daily, sometimes hourly, ritual. His chest began to rip open. There was a knock. The Bann hurriedly tucked the painting away and straightened his composure; he felt shaken and was once again surprised that he had acted like he was committing a taboo.

"Enter."

"Father?" a tiny, heart shaped face peeped into the study.

"Francis," Wulfhere's face broke into a grin, "what brings you here?"

Francis faltered at the doorway, his mother's fragile doll like looks seeming all the more innocent as he faltered, "I'm scared. Mother's panicking."

Wulfhere opened his arms into which the boy came sprinting before he gently folded them around his skinny frame.

"What is it you've done Francis? I'm sure I'll be able to make a deal with your mother, she doesn't scare me," Wulfhere spoke softly into his son's velvety dirty blonde hair.

"I don't believe that," came Francis' muffled reply.

"Neither do I," Wulfhere's chest rumbled with laughter.

"It's not me anyway Father. It's Kirkwall. Someone blew up the Chantry."

...

A silence fell across the crumpled corpse of the Chantry as the dust from the unimaginable explosion of consequence settled. No one spoke. No one moved. It seemed as though no one breathed; that time itself had snagged on this jagged corner.

Then, at last, Hawke turned to face Anders' pilgrim eyes and his stomach dropped straight through his body. What had he done? What had he done?

"The Chantry destroyed by a mage," Meredith's icy blue eyes came to rest on the spent, prone body of Anders with its full fury.

"There can only be one course of action," Meredith seethed, "I invoke the Right of Annulment."

"No!" the courtyard exploded into movement and speech as they protested, horrified by the conclusion Meredith had settled or they agreed heartily that the demon menace should finally be weeded out.

All except Hawke who still stood stunned and continued to search Anders back for answers.

"This was one mage Meredith," Orsino spoke through gritted teeth, "you _can not_ punish us all for his crimes."

"He acted on all your behalf. The mages have gone too far this time, their corruption runs too deep," she countered.

"You can not seriously mean this Meredith. Think about what you are saying; about what this means," Orsino pleaded but it fell on deaf ears. 

Meredith was staring intently at the Champion of Kirkwall, "Serah Hawke you are called on to protect this city. Will you fight with us?"

Anders turned to face Hawke finally. There was a moment where the two just stared, both disheartened and beaten down. Until Hawke seemed to straighten; his back pulled tight, his head raised high and his eyes bearing that same hardness. He had made a decision. There could be no more half measures. He would save the mages even if he had to drag himself back from the fade to do so.

'No, I stand with Orsino."

Fenris did not argue. He couldn't really make himself. He didn't seem to care about much anymore except the fight. The fight meant that he was running and hiding, something he did best, from the past. Fenris had been living with a ghost. The longer he spent with it, the more he lost interest in the real world and the more it felt that he lost himself. But this suited him fine because he didn't really have any esteem for either anymore.

"So be it," Meredith said but the way she said it... it was almost as though she were pleased with the result. She turned on her heel and left.

Orsino thanked Hawke briefly but began discussing how to protect themselves and every mage in Kirkwall against the storm of Meredith's _justice_. He swept his gaze towards Anders before returning it to Hawke meaningfully. He had other things to deal with at the moment.

Anders did not plead. He did not beg or rant. He just sat and waited. Hawke knew. So there was nothing to explain.

"Get up Anders," Hawke pulled him to his feet.

"Hawke..." Aveline and Carver began.

"I can't kill you," Hawke said steadily, "I can't let you run. _We_ can't run. Fight. You wanted this war so fight. And I swear I'll be at your back."

"A bit too much information," Isabella grinned, "no time for a quickie, there's men in dresses that need saving."

She unsheathed her daggers and with a swaying stride followed Hawke into the chaos that had morphed Kirkwall into some waking nightmare.

...

Meredith didn't even bother pretending to listen to Cullen. She tightened her armour and gripped the handle of her sword with a satisfied resolve. At last. This ongoing foolishness could be brought to a long awaited end. It was inescapable; tensions could only be pulled so far before they snapped.

Meredith unhooked something from her belt and thrust it towards the Templar her right. The Templar's grip tightened around the control rod as she glanced up at Meredith for the answer to her unspoken question.

"Ensure they don't reach the Docks."

A/N:

So the metaphorical shit has finally hit the metaphorical fan. I wanted to start this chapter in Fen' Harel's fathers point of view, I'm not really sure why but I liked it anyway. As you may have guessed the inevitable Hawke and Fen' Harel fight is in the next chapter. So keep reading and thank you for all the reviews they're really appreciated as they keep me going ^_^

THANKS FOR READING!


	36. It's all gone to hell

A/N: I don't own Dragon Age.

It's all gone to hell.

Hello Darkness, My old friend,

I've come to talk with you again,

Because a vision softly creeping,

Left its seeds while I was sleeping,

And the vision that was planted in my brain,

Still remains,

Within the sound of silence.

The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel.

Kirkwall was on fire.

Huge, billowing flumes swept and snagged on the fierce sea breeze as the smoke danced above the houses. Each hollow, gutted remains of the buildings that had once been homes spewed the smoke from its windows and doors as if in a desperate, vain hope to purge itself. Banners were kidnapped and swallowed whole by flames, posters curled with heat, the animals fled. And beneath it all among the smog people scurried and sprinted about in despairing panic like rats. There was a choir of screams and shouts.

The Templars strode through the crowds snatching at the fleeing figures of mages and running them through before moving onto the next ones with tenacious brutality. Other families were ripped apart by abominations or rogue blood mages who revelled in the madness and opportunity for seductive bloodshed.

Kirkwall was unrecognizable. Torn apart, turned upside; it lay open to infection.

It was like hell on Earth.

Anders watched dumbly as a child was dragged screaming into an alley by the grotesque, hulking shadow of an abomination. He had done this. He had caused this. That child died bleeding and cursing his name.

Oh Maker what had he done.

Anders hands began to shake.

A hand landed gently on his shoulder, the touch was so familiar that Anders didn't even need to look round to know it was Hawke.

"We need to keep moving Anders," Hawke spoke.

Anders nodded once and joined the others as they threw themselves into the madness.

A small group sprinted through the city, cleaving through the chaos with purpose. They moved as a whole through years of battle together. It was only glimpses of movements that the others saw as Hawke and company slipped past the smouldering houses and rapidly empty streets. They spilled out towards the ocean.

The streets near the dock were completely empty, bodies propped sleepily against walls and an alien, ghost like sensation suffocated what had once been alive with life and activity and now lay drained and broken. Hawke and Company tensed.

Something felt _wrong._

There was a scraping and shuffling in the darkened alleys.

"Hawke," Merrill's voice trembled a warning as they spied the body that curled whimpering and the Templars that surrounded it.

"Hold her down!"

"Run her through!"

"She's changing or something!"

"Kill her quick!"

The Templars bustled with nervous activity but no one actually did anything in fear of being the one to act wrongly.

But when they did finally chose to move it was too late.

The mage's body began to writhe as scales and elongated, armoured limbs burst through her flesh. The tiny, shaking body of the mage was soon swallowed up by the towering monstrosity of a Pride Demon.

"Shit!"

"Someone do something! Someone do something!"

"Run!"

"No call the patrol! CALL THE PATROL!"

"No need," a patrol of Templars seemed to detach themselves from the shadows of the alley.

"We were given orders from Meredith to monitor the Docks;" the smug expression of the Templar at its head fixed his smug expression in Hawke, "in the case that Serah Hawke decided that he might prove himself to be a nuisance."

The other Templars looked at the new patrol with bewilderment; they didn't seem the least bit concerned about the Pride Demon. In fact they seemed far more interested in the arrival of the other band that had appeared here.

The main Templar issued orders sharply to the others and drew a rod from his belt. The Templars parted as a second Monster took her place in the courtyard of the Docks.

The Templars gripped his control Rod, "Kill Serah Hawke and Company."

A/N:

DA DA DAAAA :D

Hope you enjoyed this chapter even though it is super short. I know I did. The next one should be fun :)

Thank you were reading and reviewing I really appreciate it =3

THANKS!


	37. Killer Andraste

A/N: I don't own Dragon Age.

Killer Andraste.

Isabella's POV:

"What in Andraste's name is that?" Varric breathed.

A slight, elven figure stepped lightly into the courtyard on bare feet. A mask of Andraste's face caught in the middle of a peaceful repose was brilliant gold underneath a black hood that was attached to black leather Templar armour tailored especially for a rouge. At her back (the figure was undoubtedly feminine) was a silver Sword of Mercy. On a whole there was something terrifyingly alien about the newest arrival, something not right or human.

"Anders what is it?" Hawke asked.

"I...I don't know, I have no idea."

Is it? Could it be? There was something so familiar. Was it... No, surely not.

"But she left," Merrill whispered numbly, "she left."  
>Fenris' head whipped round the others, caught between pain and disbelieve, as if they held the answer. He took a step forward then stopped. His hands trembled.<p>

"Move!" I managed as the Pride Demon, finished with the toy like Templars and turned its attention to the others. I managed to dodge pulling Merrill down with me as a beam of raw Magic came plummeting in a spiralling vacuum near them. It was then that the eerie rustle of chains could be heard. Sofia lumbered at first as the figure began to spin the chained blade above her head in wide circles. It gained speed until at last it was a whistling blur.

"Shit," I breathed. The curved blade came slamming down into the space I'd just been crouching in, dislodging the dirt and blood that had clung to the Earth with the blow's terrifying force. It was retracted as quickly as it had appeared like it was just the ghost of a blade that had attacked me rather than the real article which continued to revolve scarily fast above the figure's head.

"Hawke..." I called above the chaos, "...I think we can safely..."

My line of speech was disrupted as Merrill sent a boulder crashing into the Pride Demon's chest and was rewarded as she was lifted and thrown across the courtyard.

"... assume that that_ is_ Fen' Harel," I finished.

Hawke replied as he moved to dodge Sofia's wicked blade and was caught across the cheek, narrowly missing a decapitation. It was carnage. Everyone was forced to dance around on their toes as the Pride Demon's incredibly powerful bulk (which would have been difficult enough on its own) was added by the sharp snap of Fen' Harel's attacks which were too fast to dodge never mind stop. When you managed to elude one the other was sent whipping round. They needed a strategy or, I realized with a sinking sensation, it was likely they'd all die. I hadn't really considered death an option; not with Hawke around. But right now, at this moment, as I just managed to dance out of the way of another swiping blow from Sofia that cut into the wall above my head, it seemed highly likely.

"Right," Hawke called, "we need to deal with this."

"Anders, stay out of the fight for as long as you possibly can; I need you to keep healing everyone constantly. Aveline and Carver I need you to help me deal with the Pride Demon," Hawke began firing out orders.

"Isabella!" Hawke yelled, "I need you to deal with the Templar with the control Rod and make sure you destroy it, it's the surest way to get Fen' Harel off our backs; Varric and Merrill will deal with the remaining Templars and offer support."

"Fenris!" Hawke ordered the elf as he sunk his Long sword into the Pride Demon's leg and was promptly kicked away into a pile of crates afterwards, "you spent nearly every week training with Fen' Harel for three years. You know her fighting style best here. You need to take her out if we're going to survive."

I watched as Fenris paled. He was by far the most wounded here and for one reason. He wasn't even trying to fight Fen' Harel, he allowed each attack to hit its mark. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going through.

"You can't!" Anders shouted desperately, staring at Hawke with wide, strained eyes. Before he could continue, Anders was forced to duck covering his body with his arms as a flaming ball of Magic crackled and spat as it flew into the nearby wall.

"She's Pregnant!" Anders yelled.

WHAT!

"What!" Fenris spat in disbelief.

"Before..." Anders dodged Sofia, "when she came to the..." he dodged, "clinic with that wound..." he dodged again, "...I had to scan her body using magic for the..." he dodged, "...toxins and found a foetus developing..." he healed Aveline who was crushed against a wall by one grotesque armoured hand, "...I continued to monitor it when she came to the clinic she must be three and a half months."

"And you told no one!" Fenris cried out after shouting as Sofia's blade ripped across his chest.

"I didn't know what you two would have done!"

"Can we leave the domestics until later," I called to them, "right now I think it's best if we keep our lovely little lives."

"Finally, something we agree on," Aveline grunted. She always was so eloquent.

I was sprinting towards the head Templar, he drew but before he could lunge I tossed a Miasmic flask into their mist.

"Now how can I hit them if I can't see them Rivaini," Varric grumbled in honey tones.

"And how can they hit me," I smirked giving his dwarfy rump a pat.

I slipped into the cloud and moved to backstab the Templar. The back of an armoured gauntlet cut across my cheek, cutting the flesh and causing stinging wells of blood to rise. There was a moment as my addled brain tried once again to root itself in my skull.

There was a grunt of satisfaction, "you think I wouldn't be wise to the games of scum like you by now," the Templar smiled smugly.

A rough kick planted itself in my gut, knocking me to the ground and making me feel as though my stomach had been crushed into a tight, pulsing ball. I coughed blood, gasped for air, crawled and choked.

"Do you seriously believe a vile, murdering whore like you would be able to stop the Maker's will?" he spat.

...

Fenris' head had barely managed to snap to the side with the sheer sharp force of the blow before another came swinging around, slicing across the opposite cheek and leaving a crimson ribbon like X thawing in the air. Before he could blink, before he could even pull air into his aching lungs there was a sinister crack and rattle of chain as Fen' Harel snapped Sofia into spear form and approached the prone and shaking body of Fenris. Blue eyes flashed behind a mask of gold without a hint of... anything really like the glass eyes of a doll. Fenris' breath plumed in small clouds of smoke and blood ran over his sharp cheekbones to the floor. A pool had already formed at his bare feet from the gut and leg wounds that already littered his body.

Without a single omission of hesitation Fen' Harel ran him through. She slipped his body from her blade with indifference.

"Shit," Anders breathed already chanting and summoning his energy into healing Fenris. He hadn't time to even think about anyone else, scared that if he were to turn his back for a moment the golden faced assassin would be kicking Fenris' corpse into the water. This must have been the fourth time Fenris had let her kill him and the fourth time Anders had pulled him back from the brink. He just managed this time. Gasping for air and his body trembling with exhaustion Anders planted a hand against the nearby wall to stop himself falling as his legs faltered; he couldn't keep this up forever. Anders' head came to rest near his chest as he panted in breath, his eyes battled with sleep as he glanced across at Fenris, his chest rising and falling weakly underneath the leather armour. He struggled to pull himself up.

That was when Anders noticed that Fen' Harel wasn't there anymore. She'd obviously grown bored with Fenris and was moving towards her original goal with fierce determination. She slipped past the Pride Demon, tucking Sofia against her swerving body and swung Hawke's legs from underneath him. Anders was already running.

...

I dug the blade in deep but the Templar merely brought the pommel of his sword crashing down on my head; leaving a dizzying throbbing mess of sharp white lines behind. An arrow hit the Templar in the shoulder and his body jerked forward with the force giving me ample time to slip away and dig both blades roughly between his shoulder blades. Thank the Maker for Varric.

...

Anders was greeted by an armoured elbow to the face. Fen' Harel's hand followed him down and grasped the mage gruffly by the nape of his neck. She pulled them both backwards away from a recovering Hawke as a black; ink like liquid began to seep through the veins of her arm and hands into Anders neck. Anders choked, eyes widening in panic, he writhed limply like a fish on a line as the veins created thin, branch like patterns across bare skin.

"Anders!" Hawke stood but froze. He couldn't attack her without risking the child or Fen' Harel herself. But he couldn't let Anders die. While Hawke and Fen' Harel struggled over ownership of Anders prone body neither noticed the spiral of crackling energy that swelled and bulged with fierce crackling energy until it burst.

...

I reached for the control rod hung at his belt as the Templar strained for the blades wedged in his back. My fingers just grazed the metal. It was cold. I stretched, extending fingers forward as my body leaned in towards it. So close. And just as my hands curled around the icy metal I was thrown over his back. My grip tightened, slipped and tightened again as I fell until I was left lying on my back with the control rod acting as a line between me and an extremely pissed Templar.

...

The force threw them. Hawke was pressed against a wall by what felt like an invisible tidal wave. He tried to scream as a sensation of flesh being torn from the bones crushed his chest. Fen' Harel and Anders were sent spinning and tumbling away in a fierce wave of energy. Arms and legs were twisted and tangled as the two doll like bodies skidded across the floor of the docks. Anders' coat snagged and he clung to the broken beam. Andraste's golden face broke as her Fen' Harel's head hit a corner but her body continued to slide in the currents of energy that still shoved in currents through the air.

...

The hesitation was enough. More than enough. I smashed the control rod against the grime smeared wall. I managed a grin of relief as Varric' second arrow came bursting through the Templar's chest.

...

The body slide past Fenris who was still recovering from the hasty heal that had knitted together a punctured heart and pierced flesh. He tried to pull in breath finding it easier each time as if his lungs had expanded from the size of a walnut to an open hand. He watched as Fen' Harel's unconscious body tumbled past him; eyes closed and mouth partially open as if she were sleeping. He stretched out a hand, wheezing and panting, his fingers just stroked the rough material of her armour and soft strands of hair before Fen' Harel slipped into the dark water.

A/N:

She's pregnant! :D She might be dead... but BABY SHOWERS! Thanks for all the reviews I never realized that people actually cared so much about what happens in this :) Anyway I've been busy with course work that's why it's taken me forever but to make up for it here's another chapter.


	38. Alive

A/N: I don't own Dragon Age.

Alive.

Isabella was up and running. She hurled over the Pride Demon corpse as Aveline withdrew her blade and looked across the devastated Dock area to Carver with a weary smile. Isabella sprinted past Fenris who struggled to pull himself up and towards the water with a resolute expression. Isabella dived off the edge of the dock, her body swallowed by waves that felt like shards of ice in the cold winter night. Hands hunting in the dark swathes of water, Isabella searched with her hands until her fingers came into contact with one limp bare wrist. Pale skin in the dark, Isabella heaved the body up until both broke through the surface. Hands were reaching down towards Isabella and Fen' Harel. They hauled two shivering bodies from the water and finally took the time to address the damage.

Fenris was still in a bad state; even though the fatal wounds had been healed open scars had been left to heal when there was time. Anders choked and vomited a vile black substance, his hands gently massaging the skin of his neck which was still lacquered with black lines pulsing at an increasingly slower speed. Aveline and Carver looked ready to drop with exhaustion with their armour smashed and crumpled in on itself, while Isabella was covered in bruises. Hawke, Varric and Merrill however seemed to be more or less unharmed bar a few scratches and bruises. Fen' Harel's condition however remained a mystery as the group waited for her to shake off unconsciousness.

"Should we wake her?" Merrill whispered.

"I'm not sure," Hawke rubbed at his chin, "We can't predict how she'll react."

"I think its best you start healing everyone Hawke and she'll come round eventually," Aveline suggested.

Carver especially seemed impressed with this idea and promptly sat himself in front of Hawke and looked up at him expectantly.

Fen' Harel's POV:

Groan.

My brain pounded against the cage of my skull with vicious enthusiasm. My throat felt as if it had been sand papered thin. A film of icy shivering water clung to my body. But my eyes remained closed. My eyelids were weighted and the only thing it felt that I could move were my fingertips but I felt fine here in the darkness pretending that the real world didn't exist for a moment.

I had expected some excitement. At being alive but there was nothing but maybe weariness. I was tired, please just let me sleep. Voices came floating into my ears and through my brain.

"Just try to whack it back into place or something," Carver mumbled.

"Hold still," Aveline commanded.

There was a dull, heavy thud as boots made contact with steel.

"Ow, you hit that harder than was needed."

"It's straight now isn't it?"  
>"But I swear you were out to hurt me?"<p>

Carver was answered by an unashamed awkward silence.

"See, I _knew_ it," Carver scowled.

I laughed weakly.

"Wait," I heard shuffling as what I supposed was Carver came forward. I felt thick, quilted material brush my fingers.

"Did she just laugh or am I going insane?"Carver asked.

"Do you seriously want me to answer that question," Fenris spoke drily.

"Quiet you," Carver snapped.

"Hey, Fen' Harel," a breath of hot air hit my face as Carver spoke in more hushed, gentle tones, "Fen' Harel are you awake."

"Maybe she can't hear you? You should scream in her ear," Anders rasped. Maker, what had happened to his voice?

"FEN'..!" Carver began, I winced, but he was quickly silenced with a sharp slapping sound.

"Don't you dare," Fenris warned, "or I'll get Aveline straighten the rest of your armour."

"He's like an old woman," Merrill giggled, "Grandma Fenris."

"In what way exactly blood mage?" Fenris challenged.

"A scary, tattooed old woman," I breathed.

There was a silence.

"See I'm not crazy," Carver said.

"C'mon Fen' Harel," Carver began to pry my weary eyes open. I caught a blurry image of the night sky and blobs of faces, "open your eyes let us know you're alive."

"Get of her," Fenris slapped his hands away again.

I chuckled.

"Is she fine? What's going on?" Hawke sounded worried.

"I'm not sure yet she just keeps laughing at me," Carver said grumpily.

"It sounds like she's fine," Varric chuckled.

I laughed.

"C'mon princess stop lying around," Varric said.

"Quiet dwarf I'm sleeping," I smirked but I was already drawing myself up on aching arms. My head hung heavy towards my chest as I tried to stop the nauseous dizziness from spinning around my head.

Hands suddenly began to paw and pull me up.

"Get off me," I snapped, "give me a moment."

My eyes creaked open. Carver and Fenris looked down at me with anxious expressions with Merrill peering down at me with the same worry. Maker I'd missed them. I could feel a smile creeping across my face. But just as all those memories came in a flood so did others. Ones that involved a cold, dead table and so much pain that it felt as though I died a thousand times over. I felt my mood darken and grow bitter.

"Are you alright?" Fenris asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," I smiled.

"Are you sure? Do you need me to get Hawke?" Merrill began to chatter with nervous concern.

"I'm fine Merrill, seriously," I sighed.

"It won't take me a moment to check you over you must have had some damage. You don't look fine," Merrill's hands snaked out to pull me up.

"I said I'm fine!" I snapped, slapping her hands away.

I managed to stand shakily, giving anyone who moved to help me the evil eye.

"There you go princess," Varric winked, "but I must admit I preferred you unconscious."

"And I prefer you drunk. Speaking of which after this ordeal I believe the next rounds on me," I smiled lop-sidedly.

"I don't think you should drink in your condition," Anders rasped.

"Ah," I waved him off, "I've drank in worse conditions."

"No Fen' Harel you're...er..." Carver mumbled.

"Pregnant," Anders finished.

Oh Maker I couldn't deal with this right now. I refused to soak up this information instead shoving it from my mind brutally. A baby. A child. And myself. They didn't seem to work. Not together.

"Can we just avoid this?" I said, "Just pretend you didn't say anything for the moment at least. I just need time to sort everything out in my head."

Straightening I lifted my face into a beaming smile which I hoped betrayed the confusing mass of thoughts that clashed around in my head, "right now if there's no more problems. To the hanged man!"

"Actually we need to storm the Gallows," Carver pointed out.

"For what reason?" I frowned.

"Well...anders blew up the chantry," he whispered.

"Pardon? I couldn't hear you?"

"Anders blew up the chantry."

I cocked my head towards Carver in a hope to better hear him.

"Anders...kinda blew up...the chantry."

"He did what?"

"Maker don't make me repeat myself again," Carver sighed.

"Why would you do that? Were you bored or something?" I fumed at Anders.

"Look we haven't time for this," Hawke came between us, "right now we need to keep moving."

"Agreed," Aveline chimed already jumping down into the last boat in the Docks that wasn't aflame and drifting across the dark water.

"Fen' Harel," Fenris caught my arm as I followed the others, "can I just speak to you for a moment."

He smiled sheepishly up at me with reproachful even nervous eyes. It was clear that he was more than happy to see me but he seemed for the first time... shy apposed to the usual uncomfortable and prickly barricade he posed when he felt awkward. Roughly I yanked my arm from his grasp.

"I'd rather not," I whispered through gritted teeth.

A/N:

Everyone's alive :D I was seriously considering killing someone off at this point probably Anders but decided against it. Especially when there's such a big battle coming up. Anyway I hoped you enjoyed it. Reviews would be welcome =3

THANKS FOR READING :)


	39. This years biggest hypercritic

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

And the award for this years biggest hypercritic goes to...

It took a moment. And that was it. Before I could feel myself settle back into the role of Fen' Harel; a quick and furious restlessness, an urge to run into the streets and hide forever from the responsibilities and consequences of being a companion of Hawke before I could feel the familiar identity clothe familiar skin. Foot tapping against the deck I watched through suspicious eyes as ghost like boats swathed past us through clouds of rolling smoke. I watched Hawke at the prow as his eyes settled and locked on the towers of the Kirkwall Circle that rose maliciously through the fog.

"Hey Fen' Harel are you...er, alright?" Carver asked glancing across at me nervously. What were they all so scared of? They still seemed slightly jumpy around me (bar Varric and Isabella of course) as if they expected me to turn at any moment.

"Yeah I'm fine," I smiled pushing black hair from my face, "looking forward to the party."

"Really? I don't expect it to be the tea and cake kind," Carver mumbled grimly.

"You never know you might some new friends," I added cheerfully.

"Or die?"  
>"Or die in the process;" I smiled nodding my head, "ah it's all a tad bit gloomy."<p>

"Well it's not exactly going to be sunshine and lollipops. It is a mages war."

I shrugged.

"Well if you want to get all doom and gloom I may as well tell you now. That 20,000 donkeys die in terrible conditions every year and with just one sovereign a month you could make a real difference."

Carver chuckled, "yeah I might die horribly but donkey hunger is still a major problem_."_

"Oh it gets worse Carver, it only gets worse. Did you also know that 20,000 people each year are subjected to the sight of Varric's _chest hair_?"

"You love it really," Varric called over.

"I could make a safety net with that chest wig Varric," I smiled.

"Hey, Hawke's the good one, Isabella's the fun one, Anders is the troubled one, Fenris is the moody one, Merrill's the innocent one, Aveline's the hard one, you're the weird one and I'm the sexy one," Varric smiled roguishly.

"Wait you didn't mention me," Carver objected.

"I know," Varric shrugged.

"Carver you can be the dim one if you really want to," I consoled.

"Quiet you," Carver grinned.

"It's been a pleasure fighting with you meat head," I smiled offering a hand as the boat rocked against the Gallow's docks.

"And you, you little freak," he smiled back shaking my hand briefly before clasping me in a bear hug.

"See you on the other side," he whispered in my ear before following his brother off the boat.

"Not if I get there first," I called after him with a smile.

"You ready to go Daisy?" Varric asked Merrill as she stood shakily on the thick wood of the boat. I remembered her telling me about her bad experiences with boats; it was why she refused to go sailing with me and Isabella instead choosing to watch anxiously from the shore.

She gulped and nodded. I laughed, sidling next to her, acting as a shield between her and the deathly still waters; I elbowed her lightly and smiled lop-sidedly.

"It's alright; I'll keep an eye on you," I assured, "wouldn't want you chasing after something shiny out there."

She smiled gratefully and clung to my arm for dear life as we stepped onto the warm stone of the Gallows. I lifted my eyes to the scene that opened before us. The Gallows were changed, instead of acting as a lingering reminder of a nightmare they had become the nightmare itself. Screams were ripped from the air as people from both sides were slaughtered openly in this feral, desperate struggle for some form of control or just simply for survival. I watched as a Templar viciously gutted a mage only to be torn limb from limb by an abomination. It was obvious as we arrived that the fight was already drawing itself back into the Circle itself.

Hawke practically vaulted the steps but only to be greeted by a lasting cloud of violence. The Knight Commander and Orsino stood in the courtyard almost as if they had been waiting for him all along. I couldn't shake this feeling that Hawke was a sentimental pawn in all this rather than a king. But it quickly passed as I realized how much power he had here; it seemed Hawke was the only one to decide the winning side.

"Serah Hawke," Orsino breathed a sigh of relief, "you _must_ help us, she's gone mad with power!"

"No I believe it is you who has lost their mind Orsino if you truly believe that I will stand idly by as you blood mages run around my city!"

"Quiet both of you;" Hawke sighed, "it's not the time for squabbling."

"Finally we agree on something Serah," Meredith said with resolution, "now is the time for action not talk."

"Think about what you're doing Meredith, there's still time," Hawke pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Meredith surveyed Hawke's Companions. Her eyes fell on me and I felt my heart turn to ice, shivers swam along my back like cold water. I felt myself draw in breath.

"It's good to see you survived, half-elf," she smiled.

I couldn't think never mind answer.

"I wonder how many of your _friends_ you almost killed in that fight," Meredith's lips pulled back from her perfect teeth in a cold mockery of a smile, "I wonder how many of them will forgive you for it."

"It wasn't Fen' Harel attacking us, it was you using her as a weapon," Merrill came to my defence.

Meredith looked the mage up and down with a sneer before dismissing her entirely as she turned to organize her troops. Hawke took the time to lead us and Orsino inside.

Slamming and barricading the doors shut. We stood inside with the other covering mages just waiting for the Templars to smash their way in. I tried not to meet frightened eyes. I wasn't here for them, I was here for Hawke. Speak of the devil.

"Fen' Harel," Hawke smiled.

"Yes?"

"No words of wisdom on the eve of battle?"

"Er...always look left and right before crossing?"

Hawke smiled weakly.  
>"Good luck big brother," I smiled giving his arm a gentle pat.<p>

"And you look if I don't make it out..."  
>"Quiet fool! Of course you'll make it out alive, you've been with Anders for years and a relationship with him is more terrifying than any massive war that could possibly change the fate of Thedas."<p>

"Noted."

"Good well I'll be seeing you out the backend of Meredith's little affair."

"Mental images," Hawke shivered. I laughed.

"Are you going to speak to Fenris?" Hawke asked.

I honestly didn't know yet. It was something else that I'd tried to squash into the back of my mind, not that I hadn't noticed his eyes on me with that same possessive glare. I was torn, part of me wanted to beat the elf into a bloodly pulp. I mean no one had made me feel so...weak, not even the Templars. He'd hurt me. And got me fucking pregnant (don't even start thinking about _that_). But it was Fenris. Stupid bastard. Was it right to love someone and hate them at the same time. All I wanted to do really was forgive him but I couldn't let myself. I mean it was a stupid, stupid argument. But fuck him, how dare he? Yet I felt like nothing was_ right_ really without him. Going around the entire thing in my head just made me more and more frustrated with myself. I couldn't hurt him whether I wanted to or not, I still remained very much a slave to any form of affection or attention from him.

Hawke hadn't really waited for an answer instead drawn to the summons of terrified mages as Orsino argued and snapped like a caged animal.

"What's he up to do you wonder?" Merrill whispered to me.

"I'm not sure," I frowned.

But we were soon answered as Orsino raised a blade and sliced open his wrists.

"Urghh," I grunted as a pool of diseased blood came crashing into the space I'd just inhabited and showered my face with crimson specks. A mage chose to advance in the moment of disorientation and I used his miscalculated opportunity to reach out grasp his neck, poison the victim and throw his convulsing body to the side. Aveline soldiered on against the grotesque, hulking mass of corpses that had become Orsino. Using her guard as a shield I sent quick but powerful attacks snapping into Orsino's bulk. Aveline paralysed a section of decaying flesh with a shield bash and I used the opportunity to sink Sofia's biting blade into Orsino's side. The body shook for the third time. Peeling back to reveal a foul, deformed parasite that tried to scurry away on two shrunken arms. Hawke strode up and without hesitation mashed the creature with the heel of his boots.

Wiping away sweat I glanced across at Aveline with a smile if relief.

"Maker that went on forever," Aveline sighed cleaning her blade on her arm.

"Can I just ask," Isabella said straightening and clicking aching arms into place, "what the fuck just happened?"

"Yeah, Orsino really helped his entire 'not every mage resorts to blood magic' rant by resorting to blood magic," I quipped.

"Total mind fuck," Varric sighed, slipping Bianca onto his back.

"Well I'm sure there was another physcopath we need to deal with," Carver added.

Everyone glanced across at Hawke.

"C'mon let's go," Hawke breathed pushing the giant doors open and allowing the sunlight to stream in.

A/N:

I wanted a whole chapter dedicated to the Hawke vs. Meredith fight. I hoped you enjoyed this one nonetheless and thank you all for reviews :)

THANKS =3


	40. Meredith

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Meredith.

It was almost as though they had been waiting for us. A line of Templars stood to attention with expectant expressions. Hawke's mismatched group were led with him at the head as though we were to face our own hangings here in the Gallows. It all came down to this. It was only physco bitch Meredith standing between Hawke now. We couldn't lose we couldn't possibly lose.

"So it all comes to this Serah Hawke," Meredith spoke drawing her weapon with a smirk that betrayed how much she was enjoying this.

Half an hour later:

"Pitiful," the Templar sneered sending another kick into my already broken ribs.

The baby.

I curled into a defensive ball as waves of scraping pain rocked through my body.

"Get up half breed," the Templar spat, "Stand!"

I gasped for air as blood dribbled weakly from a fractured nose into my open mouth leaving a bitter iron taste behind. Hawke and the others limped on, barely holding back the Golems relentless attacks. Maker we were all going to die. I lay there wide eyed as Templar beat my prone body. I had been in the unfortunate position of being overpowered as six Templars stormed me at once. I'd managed to pull down most but it was brutal and arduous meaning that it was inevitable at some point that the Templars who seemed to continue to swarm from nowhere would kick my exhausted body into the dirt.

"Get up!"

"Fuck you," I spat as another kick came swinging into my spine. Impulsively I jerked open as the blow shuddered along my spinal column. But the Templar had been caught and thrown away as a boulder came crashing towards us, ripping through the air it caught the Templar's side and sent her staggering away, towards a driven Hawke with fire (literal fire) for eyes as he engulfed them both in a bath of flame. The Templar seemed to shrivel and sink inwards as the flames swallowed him whole. Maker, please. All of us were going to die.

Merrill was already running over. She dropped her staff and gently rolled me onto her back checking me over.

She swore in Dalish.

"I can barely heal," she explained, "lie still for a moment, I need to heal the baby."

"I'm fine Merrill," I tried to bat her away but she frowned and continued regardless. It didn't help that the rest of the company had at least one golem on each of them. Merrill herself was still being pursued, I needed to get up, stop lying about like a victim. Get up.

I pulled myself up and plucked Sofia from the floor. We had to keep fighting. There was no other choice.

"Merrill, are you okay to fight?" I asked weakly.

She nodded scanning the golem that lumbered behind her.

"Can you paralyze it?" I asked snapping Sofia into spear form.

She nodded already summoning magic to her as her lips chanted fervently. I was already moving as the golem's great stone legs crunched and jarred to a stop. The elegantly carved head swivelled blockishly to watch my progress as I crawled up the stone man to work on his arm. Working at the stone I sat on his shoulder and wedged Sofia in deep.

"Erin!" Merrill called as the golem shook of the hex and moved to slap me away with the other slab like hand. Swinging onto his back I lifted an arm to shield myself against the rain of rubble as the golem smacked off his own arm and sent it skidding across the courtyard. I couldn't help laughing aloud.

I set to work on its head, chiselling away at the joints. The golem tried to shake me but I had to admit I was having far too much fun to give a crap. Merrill skipped and danced out of the way of its feet as she layered hex upon hex upon hex onto the struggled creature. The entire scene alerted another Golem who began to make its way towards us. The other golem lifted a hand to swat me from the other's head and instead knocked it clean off just as I dropped to the floor. The head landed near to the area where Meredith and Hawke grappled, neither paused, continuing to trade blows in a fierce, relentless dog fight to the death. Swinging away from the other golem's feet I skipped to the outside, unleashing a strong swing from Sofia. The Golem's attention jerked towards me only to grow confused again as Merrill hit it with a bolt of thunder. Then when the Golem began to advance towards Merrill I hit it again. But this time the Golem didn't stop.

Confusion burrowed my brow. I hit it again. Still it moved towards Merrill.

"Merrill, get out of the way!" I shouted.

Two scared bright green eyes flashed back at me. That was when I noticed that she was closed in.

"Shit," I breathed. Where was her staff? I searched only to find it snagged in the rubble of the last golem. She hadn't moved quickly enough and had been forced into a corner. She must be out of Lyrium by now as well especially after the last attack without a staff.

I put all my energy into the next attacks, slashing up the stone desperately. The golem didn't turn. I moved to try and pull Merrill away but couldn't get to her. I hacked and hacked and hacked until every muscle in my body burned but I couldn't reach her.

The Golem raised its spear and pierced Merrill's tiny body.

...

"Oh!" I raised one finger as a signal to wait as I pulled a bundled wad of maps from my pocket with the other, "before I forget here are the maps you asked for."

I spread the creased parchment across the table and smoothed them gently, "every map of Kirkwall and Saundermount I could find. I added some annotations."

Merrill leaned forward in her chair inspecting the maps with an avid interest. She traced worn fingers over the dried ink as if she were hoping to commit them to memory simply by touching them; I couldn't help but smile as her tongue began to creep out in concentration. Abruptly there was banging on the thin wooden door.

"Open up elf!"

I looked across at Merrill, whose head had snapped up with an anxious expression. Sighing I pulled myself and crossed over to the door.

"Good evening," I answered a Templar whose face could only be described as a tomato with eyes.

"Are you the elven mage who goes by the name Merrill?" he fumed peering furiously past me into the grotty little hovel.

"I'm sorry but no, are you?" I said cheerfully.

The Templar seemed confused for a moment but regained himself, "well I am charged by Knight Commander Meredith..."

"Oh, Meredith, well I happen to also work for Meredith and I can ensure you that there are_ no_ mages here... but I have good information on the location of another mage."

The Templar leaned forward with interest.

"His name is... _Orsino_."  
>"We are aware of that mage," he sighed rubbing tired eyes.<p>

"You are? Well why aren't you doing anything about it? I have children, well I don't have any children, I have a husband, well I don't have a husband, I have a grandmother, actually the old bats probably dead by now. I have a dog, ah-ha yes," I wagged a finger vigorously, "_I_ have a dog that needs protecting from these scary, crazy blood mages and I need a scary, crazy Knight Commander to sort them out."

The Templar just watched me with narrowed eyes.

"Well away you go then," I shooed.

"I need to search the house," he spoke slowly.

"Merrill! Are you a blood mage?"I called into the house.

"Err...no."

"Well there's your answer," I smiled triumphantly.

"I don't think you understand the seriousness of this situation."

"I'm sorry but I do. At the moment I'm pulling rank with mild undertones of threat," I reached beneath my shirt and pulled out the gold Sword of Mercy, "there is _no mage_ in this house".

The Templar's eyes narrowed and he bowed before leaving grumbling as he marched away.

"Thank you," Merrill smiled warmly over the rim of her chipped mug, "you're always looking after me."

"There's no need, you've been here for years and this is one of the few Templars who thought that _maybe_ you could be a mage," I flopped back into the chair again smiling up through a mess of black hair, "I swear you could throw a fireball in their face and they'd look up for rain."

"But I appreciate it, the, er, help, I mean..."  
>I interrupted before she had time to flounder around for words, "yes well I'd do the same for Varric or any of the others... bar Aveline and Anders."<p>

"But they're your friends."

"Yes well so are you," I said gruffly, "now let's change subject."

There was a small but surprisingly loud noise like a cat drowning in jelly that made me literally jump in the chair.  
>"Merrill please don't cry," I panicked, "er, er, er."<p>

"It's just so...so...nice," she sobbed.

I punched her arm.

"Ow," Merrill looked up at me with raised eyebrows and a perfectly round mouth.

"Sorry but you were crying."

"Did it scare you?"

"Yeah a little bit," I shrugged.

"Aw, well sit down then I'll get you some tea."

"Thanks Merrill."

"Anything for my best friend."

I couldn't bring myself to correct her or even feel mildly irritated. Instead I sunk further into the chair with an amused grin. Bless her little heart.

...

"Shit! Merrill!"

The golem finally crumpled as one of the last as Meredith was brought to her knees. I ran.

Maker she was so small and light. I could almost feel Merrill's tiny lungs shudder in air. She was so small and fragile. She was my friend. And she was staring back up at me with pained eyes that just fluttered on the edge of consciousness. My chest ached. I felt small again.

"Shit, shit, shit," I whispered pulling Merrill's tiny, broken body closer.

"Merrill stay awake, keep your eyes open," I said urgently. Snapping by eyes about the ruined battle arena that had once been the Gallows I searched for Anders.

"Anders!" I yelled at the mage who jumped slightly.

Merrill groaned as her eyes began to creep closed. _Anything for my best friend._

"No, no, no. Merrill stay awake, stay awake!" I urged.

Merrill's eyes snapped open as her mouth opened and closed like a fish before her eyelids slipped back sluggishly into their half closed position.

"ANDERS GET HERE NOW!" I shouted.

Anders came rushing over, freezing the Templar that was almost upon us as he did so.

"Oh Maker," he breathed catching sight of Merrill.

"You need to get her out of here," I said desperately.

Anders glanced back at Hawke who struggled with Meredith, blood soaking his robes, then back at a fading Merrill. He was torn.

"Merrill's not the only one," I said, "Carver looks as though he's ready to drop. Anders I need you to grab him and Merrill then Isabella and get on her ship."

Anders looked dumbly back at me. It'd take a hell of alot to make Anders leave Hawke now; it seemed that Merrill and Carver dying here in front of us wasn't enough.

"Listen to me Anders," I seethed, "there's a probability that's been increasing rapidly that Hawke may fail today. If you and him die here so does the Mage's Plight. I swear that if it looks as though Hawke can't do it, if he's ready to fall I will drag him from the Gallows onto the boat. But if you don't move now Merrill WILL DIE!"

Anders met my eyes with a deadly seriousness.

"Swear it," he spoke.

"I swear on my life," I said.

Anders hesitated for a single moment, eyes pulled back to Hawke before he nodded and gently lifted Merrill's weak body up. He called to Isabella who pulled a severely injured Carver from the wall he was leaning against and helped him towards Anders with his arm around her shoulder and a limp, heavy body pressed towards the ground. But I couldn't ensure that they were making their exit because I was already up and sprinting past Fenris (who managed to cut down the last Golem) over the rubble and still running flicked Sofia, singing and cleaving straight through the air like a knife into Meredith's back.

Her eyes flicked from Hawke back towards me as she just managed to dodge the oncoming blade. With a smirk, I yanked Sofia back from where it hung in the air; it slid towards me slicing Meredith's face on the way. It felt good, hurting Meredith. Like a balm to the hatred that gouged the pit of my stomach bitterly. I was so fucking angry at her. For everything she did to me on that coffin of a table and all with a benign smile. For crushing my friends beneath her feet like they were nothing. I wanted to rip her throat open with my bare hands. I'd never known hatred like this before. It was almost too powerful to be contained in a live body.

A primeval energy flooded my veins as I tried to ram my foot through Meredith's spine, she skipped away all attention on Hawke lost as he gulped down Lyrium and Health potions. She brought a gauntleted fist into my face which I managed to dodge and run towards her stomach throwing my full weight into it as the force brought me and Meredith to the floor. I barely got a punch in before Meredith was kicking my body away roughly. Her hands searched for her sword but had trouble as I snarled and scrambled underneath her. Pulling Sofia back to me by her chain I shoved the blade into her side.

"Ahh, you piece of filth!" Meredith spat, anger contorting her face. It was then that Fenris came rushing forward, catching Meredith's body in a spray of blood. I laughed, throwing her from me. I knew he'd been there; even now I couldn't stop myself from keeping an eye on him. He parried Meredith's blow, leaving her open to my attack from behind. She seethed as Fenris and I prowled around her, landing blows and guarding.

It could only last so long. And as Sofia spiralled towards her she managed to bat it away quickly and slid Fenris' feet from under him. He landed with a grunt on the blood soaked Gallows' floor.

Shit.

As Meredith raised her Great sword I managed to just butt her away. The sword still came down with full force but missed Fenris' stomach instead plunging into his upper leg. Fenris cried out in pain. The sound brought Goosebumps running along my back and arms.

...

Smiling to himself with a secretive pride, Fenris closed the book of Shartan before running worn fingers over the title cover.

"Congratulations," I said looking up with a lop-sided smile which contrasted with the almost hidden one that curled his lips.

"It's not a huge achievement," he shrugged, "I only did something you've been capable of for years."

"You're impossible," I sighed.

"And you're cute," he grumbled, holding my face roughly by the cheeks between his two palms.

"Maker, who are you and what have you done with Fenris," I said genuinely surprised, "cute? I didn't think you even knew the meaning of the word."

He frowned.

"Or are you feeling all mushy Fenris?" I teased.

"Yes, yes mock me," he said before planting a kiss, his lips and my own pressed together firmly then he left.

"Remember to clean away your books while I'm gone," he said over his retreating shoulder.

"Yes I wouldn't want to disturb the empty wine bottles theme you have here," I called after him.

I heard a throaty chuckle before he was gone, leaving me with a smile that I seemed incapable of wiping from my face. I was such a fool; life had proven that only fools fell in love.

...

Meredith didn't fall but staggered. THE BITCH. I'll kill her. I swear to the Maker, I'm going to fucking kill her.

Yelling I gave a launched myself onto her back wrapping Sofia's chain around her throat and yanking it tight. I heard Meredith give a satisfying choke of surprise. She reached for her sword but I wrenched the chain even tighter until my arms shook from effort. Hawke, who had only managed to finish healing himself after almost two hours of battling Meredith alone, pulled his still wrecked body towards us with a grim determined expression.

"Hit her with a fireball or something," I called to him.

"You're still there," he replied.

"I can't hold on forever, do it now!"

Hawke just stared at me.

"Do it!"

Hawke still didn't move. My arms were to the point where it felt as though the muscle was tearing itself open, I couldn't keep it up regardless of whether I wanted to or not.

"Please."

Hawke finally summoned a ball of fire that grew at the end of his staff. I watched it mesmerized for a moment before it came hurling into us both.

There was a moment of silence as all sound was ripped from the air. My body was pulled forward, pushed back and finally thrown, empty like a sack, into the wall. I didn't watch Meredith as she was solidified and torn apart by the red Lyrium. My eyes were on Fenris as his chest moved with sleep. Flung into the darker alcoves of the Gallows, I was content enough to watch him sleep as feeling flooded from my body and it just became this _thing_ I was loosely tied to. I was tired too. I think I'd just love to sleep awhile and dream of nothing.

A/N:

I hoped you liked it. I wasn't sure how to do this. I mean Merrill's one of my favourite characters but I've always seen her as a victim in it all. Maybe because she's so innocent. Anyway just hoped you liked it :)

Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	41. After

A/N: I don't own dragon age.

After.

It was still dark when I woke. But not completely, thin strips of watery sunlight fell from the gaps between the wooden beams that I supposed was the ceiling. A sensation rocked the room not gently but not roughly either, it was just there. I knew it well enough from my sailing lessons with Isabella to know it was a ship. We'd made it, we were alive.

Relief passed through my body like awaited sigh. I wanted to concentrate on it just for the moment before the thousands of worries could flood my brain in a hive like mess.

Maker, Fenris.

I had the urge to get out of bed and find him but my body didn't seem capable of implying. Shackled to the bed by my numb body my mind began to race, worry thrilled around my body with jittering worry. I tried desperately to pull myself up. It only increased as I remembered Merrill lying in a pool of her blood. The door was kicked gently open as Anders laden with a tray, busied himself into the room. He mumbled to himself as he did so, completely oblivious to my regained consciousness. He didn't look brilliant but far better than he had during the onslaught.

"Hawke finally has you playing nursemaid," I rasped.

Anders shrieked.

"Andraste's tits Fen' Harel, don't scare me like that," Anders breathed clutching his chest.

"Where are Fenris and Merrill? What happened? Are they okay? What happened?" Shaking my head slightly I tried once again to heft my frozen body up, "I need to get out of here, help me up."

"No, you need to rest," he said in the professional tone he adopted when he worked in the clinic, "not for your sake but the baby's. I managed to heal him or her completely but it needs rest."

"Fuck that," I said attempting to struggle. I couldn't care less about that thing that grew in my womb like a disease, it wasn't my child, it wasn't anything just a thing.

"This isn't about you Fen' Harel, it's about the child," he said in an exasperated tone.

"Maker," I sighed, "can you just leave and bring someone reasonable in."  
>"I'm being unreasonable?" Anders said angrily, "you need to stop being selfish."<p>

"I don't have time for this," I strained once again except this time I did move. Blankets still wrapped around my body it literally rolled from the bed and hit the floor clumsily with a thump.

"For fucks sake Fen' Harel," Anders snapped reaching down to lift me, "Stay. In. Bed."

"I just need to know," I pleaded, "I can't stay here trapped in this bed. I won't do anything dastardly I swear. I just need to see if Fen...if everyone's okay."

"Goodbye Fen' Harel," Anders said dropping the tray off before making a brisk exit.

"Bastard! Get back here!"

There was no reply only the blank wood of the door.

"I need to know!"

Frustrated to no ends I found myself despite best efforts being pulled into sleep.

I dreamt of a child. A child with Fenris' face. He was lost somewhere; tears had already stained round, cherub cheeks that he wiped at with tiny, round fingers. Then I realised he wasn't lost but left alone. It was a mess of empty bottles and broken spine books that scattered the floor about him. He was covered in fifth and from the desperate and pitiful cries that came wailing from his open mouth, starving.

Someone needed to feed him.

Why didn't anyone come?

But as the thoughts crossed my mind someone did enter. At first I could feel myself give a sigh of relief as the shadowy figure seemed to almost materialize in the grotty little room. As a spectator all I could have done was listen to the child's screams until they tore me apart but now my hope of comfort (for the child of course) rested on the shoulders of the man who stalked, predator like, towards the starving child. It took me a moment longer to register the Circle robes on the mage as he brought the child's tiny body towards his own, cooing soft words in its ear and stroking back soft yet matted infant hair. And just as the child became silent, just as pudgy fingers uncurled from their fists and grasped at the man for protection and relief from the squalor, the child caught fire. With a satisfied, malicious and almost curious smile the mage watched as the child's doll like body crackled and screamed into nothing. I could do nothing but watch in horror. At least that's what I continued to tell myself but I had been capable of movement all along. I'd just chosen to neglect the child with Fenris' face.

I woke with a start. A lingering feeling of hopelessness stayed after the dream. I couldn't do this I couldn't be a mother. I'd spent the entire of my life fighting. I couldn't do this. Rubbing at my face I found that I could in fact sit up now at least.

"Fen' Harel," someone said softly.

I jumped, peering into the darkness.

"Who is it?" I said suspiciously.

"It's okay it's only me," the voice replied, I couldn't put a pin on exactly who.

"Garrett," Hawke explained, "I heard you shouting so I came in to check on you but you were asleep."

I didn't really know what to say instead I tried to make out his figure in the dark but I couldn't see a damn thing only hear this rumbling voice in the dark.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"What for?"

"I almost killed you out there, I should have waited or something..."  
>"Don't be so stupid, I told you to do it."<p>

"I know that but... I didn't have to."

I sighed.

"How is everyone?" I asked.

I heard Hawke move in the darkness, then a pressure on the side of the bed as he sat.

"Well, you've seen Anders. He's tired but fine. It'll take more than a war between mages and Templars to put Isabella down. She's ordering topless sailors around as we speak. Varric came out nearly unscathed. Carver was fully healed a week ago, he's still a bit battered but fine nonetheless..."  
>"Wait! A week ago! How long was I sleeping?"<p>

"Nearly three weeks."

"Maker...sorry continue."  
>"Er where was I? Anders. Isabella. Varric. Carver. Ah, yes Aveline's hard as nails, she was fine but wouldn't board instead she stayed behind to help deal with the mess. Fenris..."<p>

I sat up in the bed.

"... Was in a worse state when we got him here."

"Well what happened? Is he okay?" my brow creased as panic rose in my throat like vomit.

"No, no, no he's fine well he's alive but he's leg. We were too busy trying to keep Merrill alive that we couldn't deal with his leg until later, he can use it but he limps now."

"So he's fine just a limp?"

"Yes but his leg sometimes causes him pain."

"What about Merrill, you said you were trying to keep her alive."

"Yeah," he sighed, "Merrill's not so good. She's was near enough dead before Anders could even begin healing her. We worked on her for hours and she's stable now but she hasn't woken up yet."

"But she's alive?"

"Yes, she is, she just hasn't...woke up."

"Can I see her?"

"No, you have to stay here."  
>"Can't you just take it out of me!"<p>

I hadn't realised that I'd even said the words before they came flying out of my mouth.

"Fen' Harel you can't ask me that."

"Garrett please, I can't do anything for it, and I know I'll just fail it."

"Enough," he said quietly.

"I can't be a mother. You know I can't do this. What kind of life would it have?"

"Enough! I can't kill the child. None of us can."

I was stunned for a moment.

Then it began to dawn on me. Everyone of us on this ship had killed, we'd even sparked a war that would kill thousands. And the child. This child growing in my womb offered some form of redemption. A new life brought into this world as atonement for the thousands we'd ripped from it.

I didn't want it.

Couldn't have it.

But I knew I had to.

I found oddly enough that I seemed to sleep all the time and when I was awake, rather than panic or the thousands of worried questions that assailed my brain like a swarm of bees when I first woke, I was thinking about sleep.

The dreams however were restless. A feeling of uselessness gripped them all as memories of my body being carved up on the stone table, or images of Merrill bleeding her life out before me were woven into my sleeping head. The child appeared often. It had become a tormented reminder of not only the thing that sat there cultivating itself in my stomach but of my incapability and the constant violence that my life included. The child always died in those dreams. Sometimes I'd wake and I'd almost swear that it or Meredith or both were in the room with me. Sometimes I'd wake and forgot where I was, believing for a horrible moment that I'd been forgotten and still lay under the alcove in the Gallows.

It wasn't only my grip on consciousness that began to lax as days passed but Anders tyrannical guard. He'd stay longer in the room after delivering food, occasionally speak to me and almost constantly ask to touch my stomach like he was the creepy gardener maturing the weed in my body. He also stopped sitting outside the door. I could tell he was there because every now and then he'd bark at someone to move along.

I decided to test this new freedom on a day when I wasn't so drowsy. Rising from the bed, joints cracking into place as I did so, I moved to dress myself. But my clothes wouldn't fit anymore; I managed to bring myself to look at the bump with disgust as a small but clearly defined pot protruded from my stomach. I instead changed into a clean nightgown, donned a cape that had been conveniently left hanging on the back of the door and curled the quilt around myself.

I slugged from the room, my head poking from the bulk of the quilt. I checked both ways before toddling hurriedly down the corridor. I wasn't entirely sure where I was going but the sailors were quite helpful with directions once they got over the initial oddness of my appearance. I had to admit I was envious of Isabella's ship, it was quite beautiful and smelled pleasantly of exotic spices. I managed to escape Anders clutches and finally pushed a door open against the sea wind onto the deck. The smell of salt and briny water coupled with a strong wind hit me like a slap across the face. I gave a small exhilarated laugh, happy to be freed from that stale, loathsome little room into the air again.

"Fen' Harel!" Isabella came jogging up from the cluster of ropes she'd just ordered her sailors to untangle.

"Isabella," I grinned as we gripped each other in a hug. It was so _good_ to be able to hug her like this to know she was alive and here especially since at times I'd felt as though Isabella and I had an almost sisterly affection towards one another.

"Does Anders know you're out of that bed?" she asked.

"Actually I managed to make my getaway before Nurse Anders could make his usual inspection."

"Sounds so dirty," she smirked.

"To you everything sounds dirty," I laughed, "Maker its good to see you again. I was going crazy in that room."  
>"Hawke's been guarding you like...well a hawk..."<p>

"He must be a headless hawk then with a gimpy wing and one leg, I mean I'm not the most inconspicuous fugitive," I smiled lop-sidedly.

"Well up into this moment anyway. Varric and Carver thought that something else must have happened to you and they didn't want the rest to see."  
>"Like what? Hoping I'd grow a second head."<p>

"Maker _please_ never let that happen, you'd never shut up," she grinned playfully, "no Hawke and Anders are worried you'd do something to the baby."

"That's madness," I tried to shrug it off but the memory of Hawke and my argument came drifting back.

"_Just get it out of me!"_

"That's what I said," Isabella continued, resting a hand on her hip as she settled back into her usual seductive stance, "I mean I how your not exactly a home baked apple pie and puppies and rainbows motherly type but you wouldn't kill it."

"No, I wouldn't do that," I whispered almost to myself.

Straightening slightly I looked across the expanse of sea as it peeled back from a grey, cloudless sky. It was a dreary sight.

"Where are we heading," I asked jogging up to Isabella as she held the door to the lower decks open for me and gestured inside.

"First, Amaranthine, Carver needs to report back to the Grey Warden Commander about the events in Kirkwall directly. Commander Gerod has offered us sanctuary for a few nights at least but after that," she shrugged in answer.

"We need to hurry though, Templar ships have been trying to tail us for weeks mostly we lose track of them but sometimes its close," she continued instinctively weaving her way through winding corridors in the belly of the ship. She sounded surprisingly serious about the entire business, a sure sign of the high level of shit we'd be in if we made one false move.

A/N:

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile but I've been really busy with coursework. I feel really bad about it and deservedly so T-T I'm finding it hard at the moment trying to come with a name for Fen and Fen's baby, I was toying with the idea of Thane (after Thane Shartan) but it always reminds me of Mass Effect Thane Krios I'm so unsure So any suggestions or comments would really help me out :)

THANKS FOR READING!


	42. News

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

News.

"Hey, I know you're faking."

Silence.

I sighed.

"I know you're in there Merrill, it's just cruel letting me ramble on like this."

I searched her face for even the faintest flicker of life, for some sort of life line and for the umpteenth time found absolutely nothing. Merrill in this sedated state had ceased to be Merrill. It wasn't the blissfully oblivious face of sleep that I had expected the first time I'd visited; Merrill was grey, her face slack and hollow. I lifted a hand and, checking no one else was in the room, hesitantly smoothed back her dark hair. At least it still felt alive.

"Merrill, I'm sorry," I said softly, if only she could hear me in that living sarcophagus, "it should've been me out there."

The moment passed as the door creaked open. I suddenly felt foolish.

"Hey," Anders said softly.

"Hi," I grumbled, turning away from him and focusing once again on Merrill.

"Er...," he struggled, moving towards the bed and stopping, "how are you this morning."

"Fine and dandy," I said drily with a lop-sided smile, "I think I could take on the whole Templar order again, if you fancy it?"

Anders just narrowed his eyes at me. The silence stretched tautly across the room for ten minutes before Anders finally spoke.

"Hawke and I are expecting her to wake any day now."

"What?" I shifted in my chair with difficultly the extra weight of my bump making movement difficult and constantly throwing me off balance.

"Are you being serious?" renewed excitement and lingering doubt was evident in my voice. Part of me had thought that, maybe, she'd _never_ wake.

Anders nodded warmly.

"Ah!" I grinned triumphantly, "I could hug you if I could bloodly well move!"

Anders seemed slightly staggered.

"Well," he coughed, "I am an accomplished healer. Speaking of which I need to...ahem."

My face puckered in confusion until he gestured gently towards Merrill's sleeping form.

"Oh, right, right. No worries," I pulled myself from the chair and waddled towards the door, "never mind me, just keep glowing and stuff, well whatever it is you do."

Snug in the catches of the Antivian coastline Isabella's ship finally exhausted its breath. I had watched the ships approach, arms flung lazily over the side and the traitorous swell of my stomach pressed against the sun warmed wood.

"Antiva is sunnier than I expected," Carver groaned next to me, eyes straining against the barrage of sunlight.

I laughed. Banished from the lower decks we had both managed to secret ourselves away from the others on a corner of the main deck. Conversation had mellowed after I'd already told him about Merrill and we'd speculated excitedly as to when exactly sleeping beauty would rise from her pit. Merrill's condition when she woke wasn't even prodded, would she still be Merrill after being lost for so long?

"That's an understatement," I muttered, "I think I've forgotten what cold weather feels like."

One hand pulled itself back onto the bump and a distasteful expression soured my face. Carver glanced at me from the corner of his eye but rather than chastise me as Anders or Hawke would have done Carver merely averted his gaze with a stony frown.

"So-o-o," I said pulling myself up, a feat which was becoming progressively harder as my body become less like the body I recognized, "what do you intend to do when we reach shore?"

"_I _intend to drink myself silly and have a ruddy good time," Isabella intercepted with a devilish grin and wink, "and maybe find myself a good Antivian man, or two, or maybe three."

"I worry for Antiva," Carver grumbled.

"Ah, life's too short for worrying Little Hawke," Isabella pouted gripping Carver's jaw lightly with one worn hand.

"I may join you," I smiled, "well for the drinking; I'll leave the foursome in your very capable hands, quite literally."

"That's the spirit," Isabella grinned; she slipped one firm arm through my own, "I knew there was a reason I liked you, which has nothing to do with that delectable little body of yours."

"It's not so 'delectable' at the moment _unless_ you're partial to sausage roll Isabella," I mumbled.

"I don't think drinking's wise in your condition anyway," Carver said.

Maker here we go again. If I wasn't lectured about my behaviour hourly I began to worry that something was very wrong. It was odd that at the point of conception (or in this case Anders blurting to everyone I was pregnant as I tried to kill them all while under Templar control) my body instantly became public property with every mother hen on the ship clucking away about mine, or more importantly _the babies_ welfare.

I fixed him with the stink eye, mouth already snapping open for a tongue lashing before I was interrupted.

Fenris broke through the on-coming shit storm with a cough.

"Isabella, Carver...Fen' Harel," his voice caught slightly on my name and on my nerves, "Hawke wishes to see you all."

I suddenly felt deflated. Not because of Hawke but Fenris. Seeing him on the ship almost every day was unbearable. I had expected it to gradually get easier but no, I was foolish to believe so. Instead it only got harder like the proximity of him just put a heavier weight on how far away he seemed. Even here, standing across from me, eyes relentlessly trying not to meet my own and face a blank mask, he may as well have still been lying there in the Gallows courtyard. I just wished I could remove myself from him completely, just blinker myself from his vision because life would be so much easier if I were invisible to him; especially in this repulsive state. But the last thing I wanted was for _him_ to become invisible to _me_. That was something I could never possibly wish. **Never.**

I wasn't sure if it was self-inflicted sadism on my part but they was a peace beneath the agonizing ripping and tearing inside my chest when I caught a glimpse of him without him being aware of my presence. To know he was alive, he was well minus the limp that he walked and thought and _breathed _on Thedas was a comfort albeit one that left me feeling as though some great hand had scooped out everything inside me. But I couldn't approach him, not here, not with everyone here. The thought that we could have this out, and then maybe be together again was like balm on the long, lonely nights. But two major things among others haunted me, what if he didn't want me anymore (something I was convinced of) and what part would the _thing _growing inside me play?

"We'd better get going then," Isabella slapped my ass with a light wink, "wouldn't want to keep Hawke waiting."

"Ow," I pouted rubbing my slightly sore rump.

"I think I know what this is about," Carver mumbled.

"Have you been stealing Merrill's clothes again?" I asked. Carver turned a satisfying bright red before mumbling something about evil, elven women.

"So little Hawke what is this about?" Isabella asked.

"We're almost at his cabin, I'm sure he'll tell you," Fenris snapped, his back tense.

"I'm sure you're not the only pregnant woman on this ship," Isabella muttered to me, eyeing Fenris' back.

I muffled laughter under a cough as Isabella cast me a conspiratorial wink.

"Hawke," Fenris called, pulling the door open. He nodded us inside, careful not to touch my skin.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"You're welcome," he mumbled, that being the extent of conversation between us for what seemed like years.

"Is that everyone?" Hawke asked, glancing up at the new arrivals.

Deep in the belly of Isabella's ship Hawke had regained some of previous eminence. Hands planted on the Rosewood desk, maps, navigating tools, pencils, knives cups and plates scattered across the top, the light catching and reflecting of the clear depths of the Antivian sea before streaming in from latticed windows behind him and the sound of gulls and sailors' cursing floating down from the higher decks. Garrett Hawke was restored. It made me wonder if it had been Kirkwall that had slowly drained the life from him after building him up. Out here, even on the run from every Templar on Thedas, Hawke was finally free of it. Job done, here in his cabin the only people he played saviour to right now, were all collected in the room with him.

It was good to see him like this again.

"Ah," Hawke smiled warmly, that patient older brother smile, "I've some good news at last."

"I haven't missed anything have I?" Anders slipped through the door.

"No just in time Blondie," Varric answered slouching easily in a chair, feet upon the table.

"I, well Carver have received a letter from the Warden Commander in Amaranthine," Hawke slid the letter in question towards us, "not only does it call Carver back to his post but it _also_ offers us all aid."  
>"What?" I asked, scarcely able to believe it. The Grey Wardens as a rule did not involves themselves in situations outside the Darkspawn.<p>

"I know, I didn't believe it either until I read the letter," Varric grinned at Carver, "how exactly did you gain this extra favour?"  
>"Nothing like that," Carver snapped, face turning vermillion <em>again,<em> "Leonie is just a kind woman."

"_Leonie_?" I smiled at him, "wow it seems like the Wardens keep exercising when they're not fighting Darkspawn."

"I meant the Warden Commander," he blustered, "anyway didn't we come here to listen to Hawke instead of bullying me."

"Does _Leonie _bully you after you've been a _bad, bad_ Warden," I teased.

"See!" Carver shouted to Hawke, "See what I have to put up with Garrett!"

"As I was saying," Hawke tried to sound annoyed but failed to hide his amused grin, "this offer isn't limitless. The Warden Commander proposed to smuggle us away from the Free Marches and the Templar patrols abroad her own ship as Grey Wardens. She has the documents if her word is questioned."  
>"But it's extremely unlikely anyone would question the <strong>Warden Commander's<strong> word," Carver said emphasising the correct title for me, Isabella and Varric.

"What about my ship?" Isabella asked.

"Well... here's what I need to discuss with you all," Hawke sat, fixing us with golden hawk eyes.

"I don't in the least expect nor wish for any of you to keep following me," she said, meeting all our eyes individually but I could tell he was tentative, he wouldn't wish the life of a fugitive on any of us and yet he was still afraid of our answers.

"Hawke, of course I'll..." Anders began but Hawke cut him off sharply.

"Anders, that includes you, especially you. If anything happened to you, any of you because of me; I wouldn't..." Hawke sighed, "I'm not going to beat you all off but I'm not to force you to stay with me."

"Carver," Hawke continued, "you need to return to the Wardens regardless but you all have lives outside of me."

"I don't!" Anders argued passionately. His fervour threw me slightly off balance as he strode forward to meet Hawke eyes blazing.

"Garrett, **you are my life!**" he yelled, shaking with the outburst. I would have up chucked if I hadn't seen his face seen the conviction and infatuation that was blazing across his face as if a second spirit had harboured itself in his body and had only now blazed through into plain sight.

"And you even suggesting that I leave is...is," Anders face fell but his tone still stood strong, "don't you ever say that to me again," he warned.

Hawke smiled at him warmly, "thank you," he said softly.

Anders flustered now and deflated after his outburst tidied his robes and slunk to the back of the group to avoid further attention but his eyes never left Hawke's.

"Isabella?" Hawke asked.

"This is a big decision, sweet thing," she purred, "but I can't leave my baby not now I have it back."

'Her baby' being the ship of course. As far as worship for objects went, Isabella's attachment to her ship was near Varric and Bianca.

"But the offer for company is always open," she added looking pointedly at me.

"Along with your legs," Fenris griped.

Maker, what was his problem with Isabella? He hadn't stopped biting at her for the last few weeks.

"Watch what you say, precious," Isabella said tones still silkily but I could almost feel the threat underneath, "you're beginning to bore me."

Fenris just glared in response.

"What about Merrill?" I asked attempting to diffuse the rising tension in the suddenly claustrophobic cabin.

"Well I'm intended to take a group of you with me tomorrow to meet with the Warden Commander," Hawke answered, "but they're no plans yet. So we hope Merrill's conscious by then to make her own choice."

"I see," I said quiet again.

"Wait! Tomorrow!" Carver said with surprise.

Hawke nodded.

The details were worked out. Everyone bar me, Anders and of course Merrill (who was given little choice in the matter) would meet the Wardens with Hawke. Varric promised to stay with Hawke at least for the time being while Fenris and I remained undecided yet. Fenris' indecision was in largely a source of my own; I wanted to know what he intended to do before I committed to anything. That and my situation had changed. I wasn't free to make my own decisions anymore or I would have followed Hawke in a heart beat. He was a brother to me after all. But now I had a human parasite to consider. Would it be best if I retired to some Alienage, raised the child among the other elven children that rambled happily through the slums. But that wouldn't do. The child wouldn't have a Cleric's hope in a brothel with me raising it. But I couldn't just palm him or her off. What if they went to some abusive alcoholics? I didn't know what the flying fuck I was meant to do.

"Fen' Harel," Hawke said, gripping my arm gently before I could leave, "Anders and I need to speak with you."

I couldn't help but glance back at Fenris only to find him there already glaring at Anders and Hawke with a questioning suspicion.

"What's this about Hawke?" he asked, eyes flicking from mine to Hawke and Anders .He was looking at me, we'd managed to meet one another's gaze again. Maker how I'd _missed _those shades of green.

"Its fine Fenris, we just need to talk to her," Anders said impatiently feigning friendliness through gritted teeth.

"Maybe he should stay," Hawke said softly to Anders.

"I'd prefer it if we spoke to her first," Anders countered.

"Can you two just get on with it," I yawned.

"Fine, I'll go," Fenris snapped. He turned to me before closing the door.

"Fen' Harel," he said quietly glancing over my shoulder to ensure Hawke and Anders weren't listening in, "I...," he struggled before slumping, eyes dropping from my face and the uncertainness returning, "I need to speak to you. Can you...can you come to my room later."

I was about to make some track about being booty call but it died in my throat.

"Yes, of course," I faltered hands resting on the wood of the door as Fenris shuffled on the other side, "and... goodnight Fenris."

Fenris' shoulders went rigid for a moment before he nodded and left.

"So what is it?" I said impatiently as I turned to face the two mages. Suddenly I wasn't in the mood to do anything at all.

"Well it's about the baby," Hawke began.

"Did Carver tell you that I was going out drinking with Isabella because I'm sure a couple of drinks won't herald the end of the world," I sighed.

"No, it's not about that," Hawke sagged in the chair, "you may want to sit down."

I took a seat, suspicion mounting with each glance Hawke and Anders slid towards one another.

"Why do I sense bad news?" I said.

"Is there any other kind?" Anders sighed.

"I don't know," I laughed lightly, "you said Merrill should be conscious soon. That's good news right?"

"Yeah," Anders said weakly.

He smiled at me looking suddenly very sad.

"Fen' Harel..."

"It's not; it's not dead is it?" Panic rose in my throat like vomit, thoughts fleeing from my brain like wild hares across a field. My hand instinctively rushed to my bump massaging the swollen skin as if I was able to feel the life blooming in there.

Hawke seemed surprised by the sudden burst of maternal concern. To be honest so was I. **Where the hell** had that come from?

"No it's not that," Hawke answered, "but."

"We've known for a week now, I mean we always perform check ups, keep tabs on the child's health, but..."

"Will you just spit it out," I snapped, eyes on the door, wondering if_ he_ was on the other side.

"Fen' Harel. The damage to your body after Meredith's ritual then the battle in the Gallows, it was all too great, the pregnancy is causing a massive strain on your body," Anders said all this clinically unable to meet my eyes as my insides turned to ice, "then add the trauma of birth... when the time comes you won't be able to support yourself **and** the baby."

Silence, heavy and empty.

"When the time comes," Anders closed his eyes, "one of you will die."

A/N:

Hello, sorry. I had almost completely forgotten about Fan-Fiction until I found the documents on my memory and decided I'd better finish what I started. So there's no action in this chapter and it's morbid but I hoped you liked it regardless =3

THANK YOU FOR READING!


	43. Out at sea

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

Out at sea.

"_When the time comes," Anders closed his eyes, "one of you will die."_

I rubbed a hand across the thin skin of my eyelids.

"_One of you will die."_

I felt numb.

"_One of you will die."_

How could I...?

This didn't... it just didn't. It couldn't be happening.

"Please tell me this is some sick joke," I whispered to myself, sagging against the wall.

"_One of you will die."_

A defeated sob wavered in my throat. I felt very alone on a ship crammed with people. If it hadn't been for the weak heartbeat fluttering in my womb, I could have easily believed that I was. A heartbeat. A living thing, no_ person._ A child who in my dreams had Fenris' face.

Hawke and Anders were arguing in the room behind me. I'd stormed out only to sag helplessly in the hall.

"Fen' Harel are you okay," Isabella rushed towards me, hands griping my shoulders to gently heave my bulk back on its feet.

"Get off me," I snapped slapping her hands away, "stop pawing me all the time!"

Isabella paused, concern and confusion flashing through her dark eyes.

"Hey, c'mon let me help you up," she tried once again. But I was sick of her, not Isabella particularly, but everyone, everyone on this shit hole of a planet. I was sick of noise and this ship and this whole fucking messed up world. But most of all **I was sick to my back teeth of bad news.**

"Can't you take a fucking hint, get the fuck off me!" I roared shoving her away.

"Whoa, calm down sweet thing..."  
>"I'm not <strong>your sweet thing! <strong>Why don't you just piss off and sleep with another twenty men since passing your body out to anyone who looks at you twice seems to be the only thing you're good at!"

"I think you need some sleep," Isabella said stonily.

"Get your fingers off me you fifthly whore," I swiped.

"Look I don't know what's bothering you but stop taking it out on me!" Isabella snapped. It was like a slap to the face.

I slumped again defeated.

"Do you...do you have anything to drink," I said weakly. I wanted to get wasted, I wanted to feel Fenris' hands all over my body and listen to him growl my name when last time and then I wanted to burn this fucking boat down.

"C'mon sweetness," Isabella lifted me to my feet, "I have something in my cabin."

Drinking would not help my situation _but it would_ make me feel a whole lot better for a couple of hours. Well, that was the theory.

"So, what's got that pretty little face all drawn?" Isabella asked, her warm arm brushing mine as she refilled my glass.

"Ha," I laughed bitterly, "where do I start?"

Isabella raised a brow.

"I'm dying," I croaked, gulping the liquid down and savouring the trail of fire that slid down my throat into my belly, "and not in the 'everyone's dying slowly' way as in 'I'm going to die' soon."

Isabella sputtered.

"Yeah," I sighed, "Hawke and Anders have just ever so gently informed me that I won't survive the birth of my child."

"_One of you will die."_

I felt vomit rise in my throat.

"It's me or the baby basically," I finished the glass before proceeding to drain the bottle, "hey have you got any cigarettes?"

"Have you ever considered..." Isabella paused sliding a packet of Rivain Smoothes towards me, "that maybe it dies instead of you."

And that was the strange part I hadn't even considered it; instead swallowing my death like a gigantic bitter pill.

"No," I said sternly. By now the alcohol had began to detach myself from my brain, well from anything.

"No, I can't do that. I've...," groan, "no...I've, I've done enough. I've killed."

I watched as my hands gripped Isabella's arms, "I've killed Isabella. I've killed so many people."

"I can't do it again, please," my breath caught on a sob, the words becoming slurred and rushed and difficultly heavy in my mouth as intoxication and lament mingled, "please, Isabella. You're one of my closest friends; please don't make me take another life."

"Hey, hey. Calm down sweet thing," she purred, pulling me into a hug and stroking my chair like I was a small child again. I felt like a small child again.

"You don't understand. What am I going to do for them," the words sloshed from my mouth in a drunken slur.

"For who, sweetheart?"  
>"For whoever's growing in my stomach."<p>

"What about Fenris..."

"Oh, Maker Fenris," I wailed, "I can't let him see me like this. He can't know."

"You need to tell him."

"I can't! What can I tell him! And HOW! He'd make me kill Isabella, if it were his choice he'd rip it out of me right now!"

"It's because he loves you."

In the silence that followed I struggled to collect and patch together a thought.

"I love him."  
>"I know you do," Isabella seemed so soft now. It was as if she wasn't real, maybe I was so pissed I was seeing things because at the moment she seemed like a mirage.<p>

"I can't let him watch me die and have him know that I loved him. He'd hate the child, hate himself and I think he's had enough hate to last him three life times."

Even in this drunken slop I made a decision.

"Just remember," I said, "that and I love you all."

"Fen' Harel," she called as I stumbled towards the door, "where are you going?"

I waved her away sadly, "just remember."

"You're pissed," she called, "go to bed."  
>"Remember!"<p>

Chuckling to herself, Isabella slouched in her chair drink still in hand. She didn't believe a word Fen' Harel had said. It was all _this_, fleeing Kirkwall, Meredith, Fenris and pregnancy. It had to be. It was bizarre seeing her cry like that though. Not that Fen' Harel had a heart of stone but clutching at people and sobbing into their shoulder just wasn't something Fen' Harel did. She was sure, however she was sure that the two elves would soon work it all out. An argument perhaps, thrown bottles, angry sex (some of the best) then all would be forgiven. They'd be better when they were together, they always were.

Fenris paced corridor again. He'd waited in his room for hours but no Fen' Harel. He'd knocked her door, returned to check his room in case she'd returned there, came back to her room and now waited.

There was a heavy shambling noise from the other end of the corridor as Fen' Harel staggered into view, one hand cupping the bulge of her occupied womb. The child. His and Fen' Harel's child. He wasn't sure where it left him; but his concern nor his interest wasn't captivated by the child at the moment, only the woman it was growing inside.

"Fen' Harel," he uttered, limping forward he caught her as she teetered in the hall. She leaned against my chest. The smell of her hair drifted up, Maker how long had I dreamed about the way she smelt.

"Fenris, what are you doing here?" she slurred alcohol lingering on her breath, laughing as she patted at my arms good-naturedly.

She was drunk.

"I asked you to come to my room once you'd finished talking to Hawke," I managed pulling her towards her room.

"I was talking to Hawke..."

A shadow passed over her face. Pale Blue eyes ringed with a deeper blue lost that hazy glaze as it fell away into a harder cold stare.

"I'm okay now," she managed pushing away from me.

But she wasn't, she wobbled hands sliding against the wall.

"No, you're not. Here," I moved again. But she cringed, actually cringed at my touch, as if I was something foul.

"Can you get off me," she slurred.

I ignored her. Pushing the door open, I helped her stagger inside the darkened room.

"Fenris will you just leave," she groaned, body plopping ungracefully onto the bed.

"Will you do as you're told," I said, "just let me help you."

"I don't want _you_ to help me."

The way she said 'you' hurt, it hurt alot.

Fen' Harel sat there a moment, pregnant stomach resting against the soft linen. I remembered her skin being soft and decorated here and there with ghostly white scars. I'd always traced them absent-mindedly; she'd always liked that, always recuperated by tracing my own scars like they were something beautiful and curious.

She was watching me. Her eyes on my face, Maker I'd prayed that she'd look at me like that again with that familiar lop sided smile on her lips. Would she spurn me if I kissed her now? But she looked so irresistible here, shadows sliding across her pretty, little face. Please.

"Can we," I approached, why was I so nervous? "Can we talk?"

Fen' Harel's face shifted, becoming resistant. Pain stretched across those soft features.

"Fenris," she said gruffly, head turned away from mine, "there's something I need to, and we need to set out straight."

She dropped, her face still turned from mine. For a moment I'd thought that we'd managed to pull closer together but her voice and her face had severed those ties.

"I need you to go and never speak to me again."  
>"What," I was standing. I gritted my teeth as pain flared up in my leg again.<p>

"You heard me. I don't want you. It was all a mistake, the whole thing."  
>She, this didn't make sense.<p>

Why would she say this? Despite it all we'd been happy hadn't we, for a moment at least, hadn't we?  
>No, I'd been happy. I'd been happier than <em>I'd<em> ever thought was humanly possible.

But had she ever felt the same?

I couldn't believe that she hadn't. It was so easy too but I couldn't. She'd told me that I wasn't alone; I don't think I could stand being alone again.

"Why are you telling me this?" I growled.

"Because it's the truth! You were something to pass the time. I don't care about you at all; I don't even like you so I think its best you leave me alone, forget about me I've already forgotten about you."

She was drunk, that had to be it. But didn't the truth come out when you were drunk? No, I couldn't believe that.

"If that were true why bother with me of all people!"

"Because you were so messed up! You were the easiest person to fuck with!"

"I don't believe that, I don't believe that for a moment," I said with resolution, shaking my head as if it would chase the horrible words away. I was trying, trying hard, to keep my cool.  
>"Well you should. It's like you said Fenris '<em>it's all a joke to me'<em>!"  
>"Is this about the argument? It was <strong>one<strong> fucking argument! I got jealous and angry and I shouldn't have. But you **can't **just fucking... smear everything because of an argument!"

She didn't answer head bowed away from me.

"Is it about the, the baby? Because we'll work something out," anger and desperation had crept into my voice and at any other time I would have felt ashamed for her to hear that tone from me.

Still no answer.

I stalked towards her, kneeling by her face, that handsome face, and gripped it roughly by the chin. If I didn't I had this fear that she would sink away.

"Look at me," I said voice and mood darkening, "and tell me you hate my guts. Then tell me you've never, not even for a second loved me."

Her head, jerked in my hands but I held it firm until at last she looked me in the eye.

"I," she choked, there it was for a moment, pain and tenderness laid open like an open wound.

Her body stiffened, chin lifting harshly in my hands. Two cold blue eyes met mine. I'd never seen her look at me like that before.

"I hate your guts and I've never loved you."

My hands slumped from her face as I sagged back on my haunches.

I got up.

I left.

I heard her crying softly but I didn't go back.

She hated me after all.

And she'd never loved me.

A/N:

Super short chapter I know I apologize I've failed you all D: but I didn't really want this bit hanging onto another chapter. I shall update soon I SWEAR IT!

Thank you for reading =3


	44. The Ale?

A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

The Ale?

Isabella ordered a round of drinks in perfect Antivian earning herself an impressed smile from Hawke and a disapproving one from Anders as a tray ladled with Antivian liquor were placed on the table. The bars in Antiva were a vast improvement from the ones in Kirkwall. Clean (by the Hanged Man standards) with blissful happy drunks and a band who actually knew how to play a lute.

"So broody, thoughts on the wine?" Varric asked Fenris. There was no answer from the elf. No one pushed it, the tight set of his face was more than enough for everyone to gain the impression that he'd prefer **not** to be spoken to. What was going on? First Fen' Harel went all hypersensitive and now Fenris looked as though he'd prefer to be dead.

"For courage?" Varric grinned at Carver as he downed another class.

"Is Baby Hawke all anxious about seeing his squeeze?" I winked.

Carver sputtered.

"She's not my squeeze!" he argued before mumbling, "far from it."  
>"In fact shouldn't she be here by now?" Varric said scanning the warm, intoxicated room for any sign of the Warden.<p>

And as if summoned, the door was flung open the oval of bottle green glass at its head rattling disturbingly. A circle of golden Antivian light was cut into the wall where the door had been and streamed the floor. The profile of the Warden Commander seemed huge and impressive there, completely shadowed with light flooding in behind her.

"Carver!" she commanded in a heavily accented Orlesian voice.

"Yes?" Carver's voice became milder when faced with his god like image.

"Where is my pint?" she demanded.

"It's already here, Commander."

"Ah," the Commander slammed the door behind her, the two accompanying Wardens having to skitter and jump aside.

As Warden Commander Leonie strode forward she became less and less intimidating. She was tiny especially for a human with the strong, stable body of warrior only in miniature. Both traits lost their benefits when combined together. She couldn't appear dainty and cute like Merrill when her arms were muscled and her face was rigid and unwavering but neither could she appear intimidating and impressive like Aveline with her pixie like stature.

Instead the Warden Commander belonged to a no mans land of both and neither which tended to leave people with a loss for words. Leonie had an arrow shaped nose, large full lips that seemed puckered constantly and two sharp silver eyes like little coins. Her hair was a lion's mane of fifthly blonde and added to the resemblance of those small wild animals that take on prey three sizes bigger than themselves.

"Carver," she said appalled, her voice was booming, it resonated through the Tavern like a breath of wind, "are you gaining weight?"

She prodded his stomach.

"That flab will not do! You are lose it immediately," she tutted.

"Er, Warden Commander?" Hawke hesitantly offered a hand. It was immediately snatched up by a tiny but sturdy hand and shaken vigorously and strongly. Hawke had to rub his arm once the Commander had returned her hostage.

"You must be Garrett. It's a pleasure," she beamed, "Ah but I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news. You see I believe I may have been followed."

...

Anders stood. He made tea. He sat down. He stared at said tea. He got up. He looked out the window. He sat down. He got up again sighing with frustration.

He wondered what Hawke was doing out there without him to guard his back. He wondered if he were safe. And it was these thoughts that refused to allow Anders to settle. Hawke would only gently scold him for worrying later. Not that Anders minded Hawke's scoldings or where they lead to. But he wondered how Hawke could ask him not to worry because asking him not to worry was akin to asking him not to care.

"Was Hawke still after all these years so blind to how much he meant to me?" Anders wondered. Then he wondered where Hawke was and if he were safe.

These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing opposite his room. The sound seemed so loud in the now silence of the halted ship. Curiosity piqued and with the need for a distraction, Anders opened the door and peered round to see Fen' Harel slip into Merrill's room.

Those of Hawke's companions who'd been left behind were all collected in that room; Anders wanted the company now if only to serve as a distraction. But the thought of facing Fen' Harel after yesterday was daunting. How did someone deal with the news of their imminent death? But Fen' Harel was tough, always bouncing back or so he had believed. It was only when she was tucked away in a corner and folded against Fenris' chest in Hanged Man that he noticed it, the vulnerability, and the pain in her eyes when she smiled and joked away concerns.

It was these thoughts that caused Anders to linger in the doorway. It was clear by Fen' Harel's unguarded posture that she wasn't yet aware of his presence. Despite a constant tired expression Anders unlike the others believed that pregnancy made Fen' Harel more beautiful. The bump was soft not bloated, her body delicate not weak. She was reading to Merrill again. She was a couple of pages through when she sighed and let the book slip lazily to the floor.

"Do you really want me to read this _again?_" she asked. For a moment Anders froze in surprise that she was addressing him. But Fen' Harel only leaned forward and continued to speak to the unconscious Merrill.

"I must have gone over this chapter at least six times in the last week," she smirked, "It's no surprise you won't wake. If you did you might actually have to listen to this crap."

She studied Merrill's sleeping face.

"I wish I could just go to sleep for months and not wake up," she grumbled.

"You haven't heard have you? No I suspect you wouldn't have unless Hawke and Anders have been giggling and gossiping away in the corner," she sighed before adjusting Merrill's sheets carefully and plopping herself on the bed next to her.

"What's it like?" she asked, "being stuck their in your head all the time?"

"I suppose it's alot like being awake," Anders interjected.

Fen' Harel spun around, a look of displeasure on her face.

"Sneaking up on people is very suspicious behaviour," she frowned, "what if you'd heard all mine and Merrill's bitching and gossiping? It could have really damaged your ego."

"I was just wondering how your doing," I moved into the room. It was still musky with sickness and stale lint laden air. I pulled up a chair on the other side of Merrill's bed, the cushion giving a soft 'poof' as I seated myself.

"I'm fine," she smiled rubbing at her eyes with her balled fists.

"Wait!" she straightened, ears visibly straining like an alert Mabari, "can you hear that?"

I paused. There was the continuous screaming of the gulls and the sound of the three people collected in the room breathing but nothing else. Still Fen' Harel sat as if she were being pulled upwards by an invisible rope. Her eyes darted about the room, searching for this unknown disruption.

She struggled up and pulled the curtain from the small circular window.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Anders do you know where the lifeboats are?"

...

Warden Commander Leonie downed her ale in one brutish slug.

"Are you all armed?" she asked in her booming voice.

"Of course we're armed," Carver whispered furiously leaning in towards his commander from across the table, "why? Who is it?"

"I'm unsure at the moment," she mused, lips screwing up, "at first I thought Templars but Templars actually managing stealth? PAH!"

The Warden Commander had a fifthly laugh and now exercised it, her Grey Warden Amor clipping and clashing as her tiny body shook with it.

"What do you suggest?" Hawke asked.

"Nothing much to do but walk out of here," Leonie cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms.

"Walk out of here?" Hawke asked.

Leonie looked across with a beastly grin at the stoic male Warden over her shoulder. He nodded once.

"You all better grab your balls and follow me," Leonie grinned her Orlesian accent sounding richer than before with the promise of battle singing through her veins.

She stood, placed a great sack of money on the table and smiled at the rat faced man at the bar. Before a wave of force magic was pulsed through the wall, timber and brick ripping away in a desperate burst of noise. Warden Commander Leonie walked out, over the rubble and broken glass and into the smoke bombs that had denoted in the rapidly empting street.

A hail of arrows came pouring down from the roofs of the surrounding buildings. Another pulse from the mage Warden and the arrows splintered mid-journey and it was tiny shards of wood that assailed the Commanders still striding form.

"C'mon out, you dogs," she bellowed into the empty street.

Hawke and his companions were now pouring out behind her.

Leonie waited a moment in the heavy silence.

"Grow some balls and show yourselves," she commanded.

"No need," a voice slipped out from the smoke, "you'll all be sleeping peacefully before you can draw your weapons."

"The ale?" Varric suggested.

"Bollocks," Leonie spat before her body went limp and slipped onto the pile of rubble.

...

"Grab Merrill," Fen' Harel instructed, whipping around the room.

She left as I pulled Merrill's unconscious form from the bed and pulled her bridal style into my arms (she was lighter than I expected). Fen' Harel returned; arms stuffed full of her armour and weapons, Merrill's staff and bags full of gold.

"Off we go," she smiled lop-sided.

Fen' Harel flung the door open for me and hobbled furiously onto the deck. Roughly shoving tarp and rope aside she dumped the equipment into the little boat before shoving me roughly in.

"What are you doing?" I asked crossly as her hands pushed my butt into the tiny craft.

"Saving your life again it seems," she winked.

Muttering angrily to myself I watched as she slumped Merrill in behind me and began to work on freeing our tiny boat from the ship. She kicked and shoved the boat to the edge of the deck before hauling herself in.

I cringed as she pushed us free using Merrill's staff and the boat dropped into the clear Antivian sea with the sensation of my stomach leaving my body.

Merrill's body juddered, her head limply slapping the side of the boat.

"Ow," Merrill groaned, eyes cracking open for the first time in months. She was ignored however as glass bottles broke against the sides of the ship spewing fire in great opening flowers of heat and flame. As the ship sank and broke under the weight of the fire's brutality only one thought registered in my brain.

Isabella was going to be pissed.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter =) I thought we needed abit more action even though I'm not entirely sure how Anders, a pregnant elf and a blood mage recovering from a coma is going to save everyone :/

THANK YOU FOR READING AND REVIEWING :D


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